


Hard Way Home

by Rexicorn



Series: Stronger We Will Stand [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, BAMF Warden (Dragon Age), BAMF Women, Canon Related, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Feminist Themes, Full Playthrough, Grey Wardens, Healing, Multi, Multiple Wardens (Dragon Age), Ok Sometimes the Canon goes totally out the window, PTSD, Slow Burn, Team as Family, Weekly Release, canon adjacent, canon inspired, elf blooded, iRex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-01-15 03:06:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 148,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18490060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rexicorn/pseuds/Rexicorn
Summary: Caden Tabris never actively went looking for trouble, but it found her on her wedding day no less! A deadly encounter with a noble human sparked off a journey Caden never expected, tearing her from her family in the process. Caden must learn to trust again, battling her demons from her previous life, possibly even finding a new family if she can stop resisting her fellow Wardens attempts at kindness.(Content Warning: there is an attempted sexual assault early on as per the city elf origin details, and it leads to some flashbacks throughout the story)Disclaimers: BioWare owns everything, including a portion of my soul; I'm just grateful to play and write in their world. Story title comes from Brandi Carliles amazing song Hard Way Home.(This is also posted on FF.net as is the previous draft of this work under the title This Is War.)





	1. Half The World Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding at the Alienage...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 – Origins and Ostagar

###  Half The World Away

_I would like to leave this city, this old town don't smell too pretty_

 

The knock on the door and the call that followed through the worn wood was meant to rouse her, but Caden had been awake since a little past dawn. She was sat cross-legged on her bed, viewing her meagre possessions one after the other.

“I’m up, Shianni,” she called. “I’ll be out soon.” She heard her cousin move off, satisfied that her first task as bridesmaid was complete. The blushing bride was up and getting ready. Caden made no move to that effect; she wanted to go over her things one more time. Today she would leave her childhood behind and become an adult. She needed to see what could make that transition with her and what would need leaving behind.

Her most prized possessions were the first items laid out before her on the bed. Her mother’s supple leather boots, by far the fanciest item of clothing she owned, as well as being the most practical. With these boots, decorated with patterns of leaves and swirls, evoking an autumn breeze as it stirred through the trees, Caden could move so quietly that she wagered she could creep up on any animal. She had practised her stealthy hunting ever since she had grown into the footwear on the rats that made their homes alongside the elves in the Alienage and had almost caught one once. She would be hard pressed to leave them anywhere, so she picked them up and straightened her legs, sliding her feet into the boots. There. That was better. Caden smiled to herself as she reached for her other family heirloom and turned it over in her hands. The crack in the roof at the foot of her bed let the morning sunlight spear the room and Caden winced as the light bounced from the knife in her hands into her eye. She laughed in spite of herself and blinked; this knife was her mother’s second favoured item, one that her father liked to pretend didn't exist. As Caden sheathed the weapon in the special hidden casing inside the lining of her left boot, she remembered the first time Adaia had handed her the weapon, how large the knife had felt in her small hands.

Those were the most important things that Caden owned, though she still had a few more possessions. There was a small pile of letters bound in a scrap of ribbon, her record of the correspondence she had enjoyed with her husband-to-be. He would be arriving that day and she would look upon him for the first time, hear his voice, see his face. But at least with the few letters-- couriers being an expensive luxury for the badly paid elves of Denerim-- she at least felt like she knew Nelaros of Highever better than a stranger. It was more than many of her peers got; her cousin Soris had married a woman from another Alienage having never met her before the ceremony. It had worked out for him, but others did not always fare so well. Thea, a woman only a few years older than Caden, had been matched with a man she obviously despised and was not afraid to unleash her ire on anyone she felt like blaming for her circumstances. Caden had had an altercation with her only the previous day, where Thea had scorned that Caden was privileged thanks to her father’s savings, that he had managed to score Caden a good match with a decent sort. Of course, how Thea would have any idea how much money Caden’s father Cyrion had spent on her dowry or how she would know whether Nelaros was a good guy, given that she had no insight into the family funds or Caden's betrothed wasn't worth wondering about. The woman was bitter and that had turned her cruel.

Caden’s mother had always instilled in her the importance of marrying a person for love, or as near as could be achieved, which was why Adaia had taught Caden to read and write when others had missed that lesson. Adaia had been Caden’s teacher in many ways, enabling Caden to write to her betrothed and, she thought of the knife in her boot, how to defend herself if ever her trust in men proved to be a mistake. Adaia and Cyrion had been lucky to grow up together, to know one another and fall in love before getting married two decades ago. They were Caden’s guiding light to love and friendship, and they had had thirteen years together before sickness had struck the household. Caden still remembered how frightening it had been to feel so weak and helpless, how her even sicker mother had held her. She also remembered slipping into blackness for several days, only to find when the fever finally broke that Adaia had passed away.

Her final belongings were the three books she owned, slim dog-eared items, bound in shabby leather, these were books that humans had thrown out. They comprised the majority of her lessons in words, and each one had her shaky, early handwriting inside each cover, spelling out _Caden Tabris_. They were _hers_ , all of these things were hers, and she couldn't bear the thought of leaving them behind. She gathered up the letters and the books and slipped them under her pillow. She would keep the boots and the hidden knife with her, but the rest could be collected later when she and Nelaros were presented with a room in the marriage house. They would get a bigger place to live when she became pregnant, fulfilling her first duty as a new wife. Caden’s insides constricted at that thought. She was not yet twenty years old and still felt very unprepared for impending motherhood, in spite of being on the cusp of adulthood. It was a strange feeling to be considered still a child at this moment and to know that within a few hours she would be a married grown woman and all that came with that new position. Caden let out a shaky breath. She might have been approaching this milestone of growing up, but she wanted her mother in that moment.

Another knock came to the door to announce that the gathering from Highever had arrived, including her fiancé. Caden blanched. "I'm coming, Shianni." She shook her head and pushed outside.

Her redheaded cousin was beaming in the sunshine and Caden couldn't help but smile to see her. A year her junior, Shianni was desperate to get married and openly jealous of Caden’s nuptials, although she was never unkind with it like Thea. Shianni slipped her hand through Caden’s arm and tugged her close. "Todays the day!"

"I know," Caden said evenly, ignoring the butterflies in her belly that were making their presence known in earnest now. "I suppose I had better go and greet my... greet Nelaros."

The two girls, one giggling, one reserved, headed for the Alienage gates where a crowd of elves had formed. It had been a while since there had been a wedding in Denerim for the elves and they were all curious to see the new arrivals. Nelaros had travelled with a small party of older elves, the intention being to safeguard his journey and to prompt some discussions with the elders of the town to broker some more matches. Shianni was scanning the faces for an unknown young man, but her eyes kept straying to the elders, hoping they would spy her and wish to make enquiries as to her suitability. Caden kept a firm grip on her friends arm until someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned, already knowing who she would see. She didn't recognise him, of course, that would have been impossible, but she knew who he was. "Nelaros." She said, warmth on her tongue in spite of her nerves.

Nelaros was handsome; slender and tall for an elf. They had similar colouring, though his eyes were green to her blue and his yellow hair was paler than hers. Her mind leapt to children again, how clearly she could see their offspring with their similar appearances, though she pushed those thoughts away.

Nelaros smiled, brightening his travel worn face. He reached out his hands and took hers -- Shianni tactfully moving away from her cousin and leaving her open to Nelaros' reach -- clasping both of his over hers. "It is so good to finally meet you, Caden." In a bold move, he lifted her hands and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. Caden felt his breath on the silver scar that scoured her knuckles and momentarily felt embarrassed by it. He didn't seem to notice.

"Well met, Nelaros," Caden managed after a moment pause. "But how did you know it was me?"

Nelaros grinned and nodded towards Cyrion who was standing with the hahren Valendrian, watching the two. "Your father pointed you out for me. I am glad to finally look upon your face. I have looked forward to this moment for so long."

Caden nodded and a few moments elapsed before she realised it was probably expected that she should return the sentiments. "I've enjoyed your letters." She said grasping for something to say. "I'll miss them now you're here." Inwardly she cringed. What a way to make someone feel welcome, by bemoaning a future without long range correspondence.

Nelaros, to his credit, laughed. Her hand was still lying between his, and was starting to feel quite hot. "I have enjoyed yours as well, though I look forward to learning more about you after our wedding."

Caden thought of the knife in her boot and of her father’s words the night before, how he had warned her to keep the part of her that knew how to fight away from her husband. She tucked the foot that hid the knife behind the other. "Mm-hmm.”

As if they sensed a potentially awkward silence descending on the couple, Cyrion and hahren Valendrian appeared beside them.

"What a fine pairing you make, Caden, Nelaros." Cyrion said, wrapping an arm around his daughters’ shoulders. Caden’s hand slid from between Nelaros' and she leaned into her father’s embrace. It was rare for her to feel as though she were making her father proud. Too often in her youth had she given him reason to sigh and look upon her with disappointment. Too much scrapping, too many fights. Despite her reservations for the day, it was nice to bask in the glow of Cyrions approval for once.

"I am honoured," Nelaros said with a bow to Cyrion and another to Valendrian, he having been instrumental in signing off on the match before the wedding could go ahead. "Andraste has blessed me greatly."

"I felt the same when my daughter was born," Cyrion said. "See that you protect her."

"Father..." Caden protested weakly, but he shot her a look to drop any assurances of how she could look after herself before she could begin. She clamped her mouth shut. If it would make her father happy to have her pretend that she wasn't skilled in the fighting arts then so be it. Nelaros could learn that later, when they were wed.

The men continued to talk and Cyrion released Caden after a short while. She listened with only half an ear to the conversation around her. Her gaze drifted over the dais where the wedding ceremony would take place and her stomach swooped unpleasantly. Keen to avoid the thought of her wedding and the complicated feelings that evoked, she looked away, her eyes alighting on a human man who was speaking with another elder. She gripped her father’s arm to get his attention. "There is a human here."

Cyrion followed her gaze and nodded, as Valendrian chuckled. "Don't fret, child." He said in his usual calm manner. "Duncan is an old friend."

Caden’s eyes narrowed. "There are friends and there are humans. There are no human friends."

Cyrion huffed, crossly. "Caden, mind yourself."

Valendrian didn't look perturbed and caught Duncan’s attention as his conversation came to a close; the tall bearded man made his way towards them. "Duncan is a Grey Warden, young Caden."

Her eyes widened at once as the man drew closer. She knew of the Grey Wardens through her mother’s stories and the idea of one being in the Alienage ignited an interest in her that had been missing so far that morning. The man called Duncan reached the small group and Caden watched as the human offered his hand to her hahren of many years for him to shake. It seemed so strange to watch this friendly exchange; her entire experience of humans interacting with elves was one of disinterest at best, cruelty at worst.

Cyrion turned to Caden. "My dear, why don't you go and get ready. We shouldn't delay the service." Caden glanced at the Grey Warden who was speaking quietly with Valendrian and then nodded to her father.

"Of course." She threw a small smile to Nelaros. "See you soon, I guess."

*****

Shianni sat behind Caden and gathered her golden hair up to fix it into a neat bun. "I'm so excited, are you excited?" Caden made a small, non-committal noise, but Shianni didn't seem to notice the fact that the bride’s enthusiasm didn't quite match her own. "Nelaros looks so handsome. Did he ever tell you he was handsome in his letters? I guess not; who writes about themselves that way?"

"Why do you think the Grey Wardens here?" Caden asked Shianni worked on her hair.

"Who?" Shianni sounded confused. "Oh, that human man? I didn't know he was one."

"Do you think he's just visiting Valendrian?" Caden wondered. "They seem to be friends."

"Who knows." Shianni said, breezily. "Not like it matters to you. Your whole life is going to change really soon." Caden felt Shianni lean forwards and hug her from behind, mindful of the hair she had just fixed in place. "Can you believe it?"

"I... I really can't." Caden stood and went to her bed as Shianni set her own hair into a plait. She brushed down the sheet, taking an inordinate amount of time to smooth an already made bed, before finally standing and reaching for the dress on the trunk at the foot of her bed. With shaking fingers, she pulled off her casual clothes and stepped into the white shift. As wedding dresses went it was both plain and exquisite, certainly for the Alienage. It was Adaias gown from her wedding to Cyrion, carefully kept all these years. Caden felt a weight of expectation in the dress, despite its light cotton and lace material. Shianni gave a squeal of joy and then Caden felt her start to pull the ribbons together at the back, tightening the gown over her waist. Caden looked down at her naked ring finger, imagining a band of gold adorning it. She glanced at her other hand, feeling the shape of the knife in her boot and picturing it in her palm.

Shianni tied the laces into a knot and sighed happily. "It's time."

*****

The groom stood tall and proud. Cyrion looked on with delight beaming from his face. Shianni was sniffing as she stood near Caden. The Chantry sister who was performing the ceremony was talking about the Light of Andraste. Caden hardly heard it. Barely saw the faces watching. Nelaros said something softly, but she heard him as though he were speaking under water. The edges of everything were blurring. And then a flash of colour. Caden turned, her gaze immediately locking onto the group of humans who had noticed the commotion and were descending upon the wedding party. Her eyes narrowed and she stepped forward. She knew this shem. She heard Shiannis sharp intake of breath; they both knew this man and Caden quickly put herself in front of her cousin, who had always had the eye of this shem.

“What’s this? A party?” the man brayed as he drew closer, an unpleasant sneer across his face. Caden bristled, but kept quiet. The Chantry sister faltered, mid-sentence, turning to him in alarm. “I can’t believe I wasn’t invited; you all know how much I love a good knife-ear party.”

“My lord!” the sister gasped, incensed at his racist remark. She obviously didn’t know him well, Caden thought to herself.

Vaughan Kendells reached the dais and climbed atop. Caden reached behind her, manoeuvring Shianni so that she was between Vaughan and her cousin. “Wait a moment,” Vaughan said, putting two and two together as he glanced from Caden in her gown and back to Nelaros, who was looking confused, but not afraid. “Is this a _wedding_?”

“It is, my lord,” the sister replied. “If you wouldn’t mind, we would like to continue.”

“Oh please, it’s not like this means anything,” Vaughan scoffed as his cronies down in the crowd chortled. “It’s like children playing with dolls.” He stepped closer to Caden, who held her ground in spite of the jolt of fear at his proximity. “It’s like dressing up two pigs for a funny Satinalia prank. Everyone has a good laugh, but at the end of the day, it’s still just a pig in a dress.”

Caden gritted her teeth. The dig at her rolled off her skin, but mentioning the dress, her mothers dress, ignited a fire in her belly. “Thank you for your opinion, _my lord_ ,” her voice dripped disdain as she stressed his title. “But the only pig here is dressed in House Kendells colours.”

Any humour Vaughan was getting from the situation drained from his face, to be replaced by outright disgust. “Watch yourself, knife-ear,” he started, but then spied the elf cowering behind Caden. “Who’s this? Ah, my favourite!”

Caden pushed Shianni and moved to block Vaughan who was trying to get closer to Shianni. “You will not touch her.”

Vaughan laughed again at this, finding Caden’s protection of her cousin to be the utmost in hilarity. “How sweet. You actually think you have a choice.”

Caden didn’t think; her hand was in a fist and that fist was connecting with Vaughan’s chin before she could even blink. A dangerous hush fell over the assembled. Even the Chantry sister looked afraid.

“Caden, no,” Cyrions cry came too late and he was swiftly silenced by one of the men Vaughan had brought, who dove his own fist into Caden’s fathers’ stomach. He dropped to the floor in a ball, winded.

“Father!” Caden jerked where she stood, torn between barricading Shianni and going to her father. The man added a kick to Cyrion for good measure. “Stop it!”

Vaughan whirled on her. “What will you give me in return if I call off my men?” He nodded to the man, who planted his boot over Cyrions face and slowly pressed down. Cyrion couldn’t even cry out. Caden looked back at Vaughan who was signally to the other men to start roughing up the other elves. Those who could fled home, but within moments the floor was littered with bleeding elves. Caden felt ice cold fear shoot through her veins.

“Stop it.” She said again, her voice mirrored by the exclamation of her betrothed. Nelaros jumped down from the dais and went to Caden’s father, trying to get between the man and Cyrion.

Vaughan reached over and touched his fingers to Caden’s chin, tilting her head up high as he looked down at her. “Very well. If you come with me now.” He didn’t wait for her response; Caden felt him release her chin and felt a moments relief at that before his rock-hard fist crashed into her skull and the world pitched upside down and into darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes originally from Oasis, but I've gone with a cover version for the playlist I'm building to accompany this fic and so my version of Half The World Away is by Aurora.


	2. The Wedding List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caden awakes into a nightmare situation at the Arls estate, and she isn't alone...
> 
> ***there's no rape as per the city elf origin as I tweaked that, but there is an attempted sexual assault in this chapter***

** Chapter 2: The Wedding List **

_You've made a wake of our honeymoon, and I'm coming for you!_

 

Caden groaned in the darkness. Her head was pounding an uncomfortable rhythm and the dim light hurt her eyes as she tried to open them. Blinking, she grasped at her temple and pushed herself to a sitting position. She froze for a moment, waiting for the world to cease its lurching and right itself. “Ow,” she muttered to herself.

“Caden?”

Caden turned her head, another flash of pain shooting through her skull, though it was already better than before. Shianni was sat beside her, knees drawn up, voice muffled by her face resting against her arms across her legs. “Shianni!” Caden crawled across the cold stone to gather her cousin up in her arms. “What are you doing here?” She looked around the room. “Where is here?”

“The Arls estate.” Shianni said in a small voice. “Vaughans men carried you here.”

Caden growled low in her throat at that thought. “But why are you here?” She pulled back and searched Shiannis face. Her cousin had the same big blue eyes that Caden had, and hers were brimming with worry.

“He made me come, too.” Shianni affirmed the dreadful thought Caden was forming.

“That bastard.” Caden gritted her teeth. A thought struck her and she dove for her boot. She was still wearing her mothers clothes; the boots and the wedding dress, though her hair was coming loose from the bun. Her hand slid into the secret sheathe and for a moment her heart lurched as she found only leather, but in her panic, she hadn’t felt far enough down. Her fingers brushed the hilt of her knife and she relaxed a little. Caden kept one hand on Shiannis arm as she sighed with relief. “They didn’t find my knife.”

“Your knife?”

“You know the one,” Caden said. “The one my mamae taught me to use.”

“Why did you have your knife on you on your wedding day?” Shianni looked bewildered, but this conversation was serving a purpose to lift some of the dread Caden could see in her face.

“I always have it on me.” Caden replied darkly.

“Doesn’t it scare you?” Shianni wanted to know. She shifted her seat until she was sat cross-legged beside Caden.

“The knife?” Caden met Shiannis eyes, matching a scared gaze with her stern one. “No, what scares me is being caught without it.”

Caden squeezed Shiannis arm and then pushed up to a standing position. The pain in her head had abated to a dull, manageable ache and she wanted a better look around the room they were being held in. It was a basic square room, stone floor and walls. One wall was bare, that was behind the girls. Two other walls each held a lit wall sconce, the candles flickering and casting shadows in the bare room. The final wall held the wooden door. Caden knew before she tried it that the door was locked. She crouched down and peered through the keyhole. That there was no key in the lock was both helpful and frustrating; there was enough of a gap under the door that she might have been able to push the key onto something to slid back into the room and engineer their escape, but its lack meant that she could see through to the hallway beyond them. There was one guard posted at the opposite end. Caden could just about see his armour and the sword that hung from his belt. Armed and defended, but still only the one.

Caden made a decision; she turned and hurried back to Shianni. “Right, listen. I’ve got something of a plan forming. We need to work together, but I think I can get us out of here.”

Shiannis eyes widened at the thought and she drew her limbs back together again. “I can’t!”

“You can.” Caden brushed Shiannis hair out of her eyes. “You can. I’ll be here the whole time.”

“But…” Shianni looked down, suddenly seeming so weary and wan. “What’s the use? Vaughan will just keep coming back until he gets what he wants. Why not just let it be now?”

Caden struggled to keep her face neutral as she took in her cousins words. “Because he doesn’t deserve us.” She said in a measured voice. “Vaughan Kendells doesn’t get to have us. No shem gets to have us. We are in a bad situation right now, I won’t lie to you about that, but we have a chance. It might be our only chance, so we have to take it. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Caden leaned forward, hands either side of Shiannis face and touched their foreheads together. “I’ll protect you.”

Shianni let out a small sob, but when Caden pulled back her cousins resolve was evident. She wasn’t happy about it, that was clear, but being willing to try was enough. Caden just hoped she wouldn’t let her down. Quickly Caden relayed the basic plan and they got into position.

*****

“Help, help!” Caden cried, pounding on the door. “Please someone help!” She rattled the door knob and ducked down to glance through the keyhole again. The guard was startled by her shouts and heading over. Good. “Please, she isn’t breathing!”

“Stand back,” came a command and Caden obliged, allowing the guard to enter the room. He shut the door behind him, locking it again and slipping his circlet of keys back onto his belt.

“Please, I can’t wake my friend.” Caden said, allowing a tremor into her voice as she eye his sword and wondered how difficult it would be to filch. She let the guard walk ahead of her, over to Shianni who was lying face down and keeping very still. Caden knew she was terrified, but she just needed Shianni to hold it together for a moment. As the guard bent over Shianni, Caden dipped into her boot, pulling out her knife. It seemed so small and the shem was covered in plate. “Please, do something!” Caden begged, coming up alongside the shem, hoping his attention was focused entirely on her cousin.

“Maker, I’m not a damn healer.” The guard grumbled. He bent down and touched his hand to Shiannis shoulder. Cadens eyes zeroed in on his neck, extended to look, the peach skin so vulnerable. Cadens hand shot out and dug her knife into that unprotected flesh. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she sank the blade through his throat and flinched as a fast spray of hot, coppery blood shot out, coating her arm. The guard let out a croak and his hand flew up to the knife, but Caden refused to let go, as if her hand was frozen to the hilt. His hand scratched at hers, but became slick with blood, and he weakened fast, pitching forward. Shianni had sprang up as soon as she heard his strangled gasp and was standing with her back pressed against the wall, far from the bloody mess Caden was quickly becoming. The guard tumbled to the ground, the knife going with him, Cadens fingers finally letting it go and then he was lying in a pool of his own blood unmoving. Caden let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

“I think he’s dead.” She said in a flat voice. She thought she would have felt different watching a man die by her hand, but she felt nothing. Carefully, she stepped closer, her foot sliding in the blood and crouched beside him. She wanted her knife back. Her hand was wet and so was the hilt, so getting a good grip was hard enough and then it didn’t want to come out with a gentle tug. Caden had to pressed her other hand to his head to hold him in place as she wrenched the knife loose. The knife was bloody and Caden couldn’t look away from it as she rose back up.

“You killed him,” Shianni said, and it was hard to tell if she sounded upset or vindicated. Caden turned to her. Shiannis chest was rising and falling fast and her face was pale. Caden decided she was definitely not happy with the situation.

“Do you have a handkerchief?” She asked quietly. Shianni frowned but reached into a pocket to pull out a cloth with a shaking hand. Caden reached over and took it with a murmured thanks, wiping her knife down with the fabric, then sheathing it back in her boot.

“Don’t you need that?” Shianni wanted to know. Caden bent down and wrapped her hand around the hilt of the guards sword, manoeuvring it out of the scabbard. “I guess not.” Shianni remarked. Caden held the sword and handkerchief in one hand as she tugged loose the keys.

“Come on,” she said straightening. “Lets’ get you out of here.”

*****

After locking the room behind them to hide the bloody scene of murder that Caden had created, the girls sped down the hall. Shianni wouldn’t let go of Cadens free hand, which was fine by Caden. Apart from the door to their room the rest of the doors were unlocked, so she was able to push them open whilst still keeping holding of her newly acquired sword and if Shianni needed that comfort Caden wasn’t about to deny it for her. They managed to avoid any more guards for a while, but when they pushed into an open hallway their luck ran out. Caden shoved through the door with her cousin to see a trio of guards by what appeared to be the front doors to the large house.

“Damn,” Caden said. She’d hoped to find that door without coming across any more humans, but clearly that was too much good fortune to ask for. Shianni let out a cry as she saw the guards turn to them, shock written across their faces.

“What’s that? A knife-ear with a sword?” One asked.

“These are the pair Vaughan brought back.” Another added. “Don’t let them escape.”

Caden pulled her hand free from Shiannis and shoved her backward with the keys. “Shianni, get out of here!”

The third guard was already jumping forward so Caden couldn’t see if Shianni took her direction as she raised her sword to hurriedly parry the blow. It was one thing to take a shem unawares with a stab to the neck, but these three were fully aware she was there. She had never fought humans before, the best she had managed was sparring with her mother and then after her death, practising against a straw figure she had clumsily built behind her house. They were bigger and stronger. She had to be faster. Caden tried to use her size to her advantage; ducking under a wide swing and slicing the guard in his side as she moved out of his reach. He bellowed, but his armour took much of the blow and now she had to turn swiftly to avoid the next swing from a different guard. Trying to remain aware of each guard and their proximity to her wasn’t easy and as she avoiding one slice, she felt steel bite her thigh as she moved. She bit back her cry and backed up, holding her sword before her. She could still stand, that was all she needed to know and all three guards were before her. Over their shoulder she saw Shianni fumbling with the keys at the door. Thank the Maker she was getting out; now all Caden had to do was survive long enough to get to Vaughan. One guard shouted and raised his sword; that goal would be hard to achieve.

Caden thrust up her sword, the metal clanging above her. If another one went for her, she would have no way to block. The doors opened. That was something.

And then the guard driving his sword against hers yelped and dropped to the ground. The other two guards looked around and Caden, driven by a desperate need to live, took advantage of their distraction to lunge her sword into the exposed armpit of one of the guards. He screamed and fell, almost taking the sword with him, but Caden hauled it back out of his flesh. The final guard turned in shock and Caden let out a bestial cry, swinging her sword as highly as she could, cutting a gorge through the man’s face.

It was only then that Caden caught sight of the person who had taken out the first guard and as she watched with wide, confused eyes, her husband to be finished the guard she had felled with a blow to the armpit. “Nelaros?”

“Caden!” He looked up, his eyes clear in spite of the horror they were in the midst of. The final living guard was howling about his face, staunching the flow of blood with his hand. “I had to come. I had to try!”

“Only you?” Caden asked, knowing the answer. Her fellow elves had made a choice; the bodies of Caden and Shianni for the rest of the Alienage. The elves were sacrificing their virtue and their sanity to avoid the rest of them being punished, which would have inevitably happened had they tried to resist the Arls son en masse. It made sense, Caden could see the logic in the choice, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. They were truly on their own.

“The Grey Warden loaned me a sword.” Nelaros was explaining, hurrying over to her. “See?” He held up the sword and behind him Caden saw the guard swing his towards him.

“No!” Caden yelled, trying to pull Nelaros out of the trajectory of the blade, but it sank into his back. Nelaros’ eyes and mouth opened wide and round, though no sound came from him. He grasped at Caden as he fell forward, but Caden had to let him fall in order to drive her sword into the guard, who fell beside her betrothed.

“Andraste preserve us,” Shianni cried, Caden hadn’t realised she was still here. Caden dropped to her knees next to Nelaros. The light was gone from his staring open eyes. He was dead. Caden clenched her fist. She hadn’t known him long, but he had come to save her and Shianni. He had tried, which was more than anyone else had done. In that moment she felt regret at his death, the loss of what they could have meant to each other, the life they never got to build. She’d been so nervous about marrying him, and now that that had been stolen from her, she felt sorry and sad.

And angry.

Caden reached over and fished in Nelaros’ pocket until she found the rings he had brought for them to wear.

“What are you doing?” Shianni whispered. She stood beside the open door watching Caden, but her whole body was angled towards the outside, as if she were fighting against a tide pulling her out.

“This is mine,” Caden said, sliding the ring onto the correct finger. It felt cold and heavy, like the weight of his death that sat on her now. Caden stood and hurried over to Shianni, pressing the other ring into her palm. “You need to figure out a way to send this one back to Highever to his kin. Tell them…” she glanced back at his prone form. “Tell them how brave he was and how proud they should be of him.”

Shianni looked up at Caden. Fat tears trembled in her eyes. “What about you?”

Caden wrapped her fingers around Shiannis hand, the ring between them. “I’m going to make sure Vaughan can never touch you. Tell them it was me, when the humans come looking for the culprit. Tell them I worked alone.”

“No, come on, come back with me,” Shianni moaned, dragging at Cadens arm. “Come on before it’s too late.”

“Shianni, I love you so much,” Caden said, squeezing her hand and wishing she could hold her. She was too bloody for that. “I’m going to keep you safe.”

She pulled her hand free and went back to Nelaros, to pick up the second sword. It was light and short, easy enough to carry in her other hand. Caden looked back over her shoulder at Shianni, hoping she looked calm and stoic, despite the fear roiling her belly. “Now go.”

Without looking back, Caden pressed forward, heading further into the house. 

*****

Her knees were shaky, but she couldn’t stop. If she stopped, she might not start walking again and if she did start walking again after pausing to think about it, she might walk right out of the house. She _had_ to do this. It surely meant her death, either at the hands of Vaughan’s friends or the authorities, but if removing him meant Shianni could breathe easier and sleep at night, it would be worth it. Caden only wished she could have seen her father one last time. Head high she pushed through the fear and pushed through the doors. She managed to avoid a few rooms where guards were eating at a long dining table and slipped into the kitchen where she found a cook and an elf.

“Oi, what’s this?” the cook asked bemused, turning to shout for the guards. Caden’s heart sank—she didn’t really want to kill this man, he was only a cook after all, but if he brought the guards running…

As she hesitated the elf crept up behind the cook and brought a heavy cast iron pot down on his head. The cook crumpled to the floor. Caden offered a mirthless smile to the elf.

“My thanks,” she managed. The elf nodded.

“No problem.” He replied, glancing down at the unconscious cook. “I really need an excuse to hit him. Just once. But just so you know,” he looked up at Caden with defiance. “I’m blaming that on you.”

Caden shrugged. “Go ahead. I’ll add that to my list. But listen, I need to find the Arls son. Do you know where he is?”

The elf frowned, thinking. “I don’t know where he is, but I can direct you to his bed chambers.”

Caden smiled grimly. “That will do fine.”

*****

She came across another guard outside Vaughan’s room, who confirmed that her first kill had been discovered.

“You’re the elf they’re all looking for,” the guard warned, reaching for a small horn at his belt. Caden darted forward, slashing both swords at his hand, bloodying it and causing him to cry out in pain. She didn’t need him to call the entire garrison down upon her. Not yet. Not until she had Vaughan’s dead body before her. Before he could recover from his hand wound and grab his sword, Caden drove one blade through his neck. These human men were tall, they were covered in plate metal, but Caden had righteous fury on her side and with her sword reaching their exposed necks was easy enough. He made that now familiar “hrrk” sound as she cut off his airway and let his life’s blood flow. He expired before he hit the floor and Caden tugged her sword back again. Her fingers were shaking as she took the keys and unlocked Vaughan’s quarters. Her adrenaline was wearing off and tiredness was setting in. She’d lost the element of surprise she’d hoped for; the dead guard was rather a giveaway outside the door. Unless she tried locking the door behind her, she wondered. Perhaps they would assume that she’d killed a guard and then been forced to turn back when confronted with a locked door? Caden dismissed the idea as soon as it was born; they knew she had keys because she’d locked her room behind her. Even so she closed the door and surveyed her surroundings.

It was a large bedroom, with an oversized bed opposite the door. There was a window either side and Caden floated the idea of opening one window and making it look like she’d escaped that way. A little blood smear on the ledge and maybe she could pull that off. Then she could hide under the massive bed and shank his ankles as he walked by.

Even as she thought this her plan was interrupted by the door opening behind her. “I thought it was you.”

Caden turned upon hearing Vaughan’s voice. She wasn’t ready, oh Maker, she wasn’t ready. But looking at his face, how he sneered down at her helped find her resolve.

“My, look at you.” He said, casting his gaze up and down her. “Filthy little animal.” He crossed his arms and stepped over his dead guard and in to the room, closing the door behind him. He had a sword at his belt, but was still wearing his regular fancy clothes. Caden held her pair of blades tightly. He was alone and she was twice as armed. What was he thinking, taking her on by himself? She wanted to bite back at his comments about her, but her jaw was clamped shut.

Vaughan took a step closer and she raised her swords. He crossed his arms, seemingly unperturbed. “What am I going to do with you now? You’ve killed some of my guards, not many, but enough to be a nuisance. I could have you executed for murder. Hang you by your pretty neck in your Alienage for all your family to see. That could be fun.” Caden felt a tear dribble out of her eye, but she didn’t dare wipe it away. Her blades shone in the light of the wall scones. “Of course, that would be rather final. Perhaps we can come to a different arrangement.” He stepped forward again, forcing Caden to instinctively step back, cursing herself inwardly for doing so. Vaughan chuckled. “What would you say to bedding me right now, and I’ll let you off with a life sentence? Maybe if you’re very good I could let you serve that sentence right here, as my personal whore? Wouldn’t that be lovely?” He leaned closer, ignoring the blades that were pointed towards him as Caden pulled back again, cowering against the wall. “I’d prefer you washed clean and fresh for me, but I’m sure that once I get your clothes off you’re unsoiled enough.” He chuckled. “For the time being at least.”

In that moment she knew she’d made a mistake staying in the manor. She should have run with Shianni, gathered their things and fled Denerim. Made their way to Highever perhaps. Now she was stuck. She was damned if she would submit to his terms. She would die fighting him off if she had to. Dying suddenly seemed so very close, as if Death hovered over her shoulder. She’d been so sure of herself earlier, probably walking to her death, but now that she could see it before her eyes her courage wavered.

“I can see you aren’t interested in that.” Vaughan nodded. “It makes no matter; I intend to have you before I have you killed, so shall we get started?”

Caden cried out and swung, but he was ready and jumped back, drawing his sword in a smooth motion. She swung again and he easily parried the sloppy blow. He was totally calm and in control, where Caden was letting her fear and exhaustion get the better of her. _Maker, please let me take him out before he gets me._

Vaughan wasn’t pushing back, he just blocked her every blow as if this were a casual sparring exercise, rather than a fight to the death as it was for Caden. Caden kept swinging, even as in the back of her mind a voice was telling her to back off, take a breather, regroup. Her arms kept swinging, the blades keep thrusting. It was all driven by fear. _You have to be faster._

Vaughan yawned as he blocked yet another swing, but then he came alive, dancing around Caden before she could react. She started to turn, but felt Vaughan’s hand grab her neck, hauling her around and throwing her towards the bed. He had been toying with her. In an effort to brace herself, Caden dropped one sword and tried to catch herself against the bed, stumbling and finding herself on her knees. She hurried to her feet again, but Vaughan was behind her, grabbing her second sword and flinging it out of her hands. She heard another clang as he dropped his, and then he had her under her armpits, lifting her up and tossing her on the bed. She bounced once, hurrying to roll over just as he leapt on top of her. Caden threw up her hands against his chest and he laughed, his hot breath misting her face. She turned her head and pushed, but he was so big and so heavy. She felt his hand on her leg, pushing them apart and drawing her knee up. With a start she remembered her knife in that boot. Like a shock of cold water the memory of her hidden blade cut through her terror and hopelessness. Caden turned her face back to him, as he slid his fingers up her side to her neck.

“It really is a very pretty neck,” he said appreciatively, before wrapping his hand around it and pressing. Caden’s terror was back, clutching his arm with her free hand. The other reached for her boot, pulling her leg closer. He started to laugh and wrapped his other hand around her throat. She knew he could end her right then if he wanted to, but he was still playing with her, hurting but not killing her. She had a moment. She could do this.

Her fingers found the metal hilt and she withdrew the knife from the sheathe. Vaughan liked necks, did he? So did Caden.

With a dart, she drove her knife into the side of his neck, burying the blade into the muscle and sinew, unleashing a torrent of blood, that poured onto her from above. Vaughan’s eyed widened and he loosened his hold, grasping at the knife. Caden shoved and he rolled off her, still tugging at the knife, which he pulled free. He was still on her leg and Caden tried to yank it free as Vaughan bled. His eyes found hers, not scared, not lost, but sharp and angry still, even as he lost so much blood that he must surely be dying. His cold gaze locked onto hers as she tried to pull her leg free, and with his final moments he slammed the knife into her hip. Caden screamed and screamed and was still screaming when the door opened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Kate Bush, The Wedding List.


	3. Can't Cheat Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caden faces the consequences of her actions at the Arls estate.

** Can’t Cheat Death **

_I spilled blood in the water, then let the storm roll in_

****

Caden’s hip was in agony and her nose dripped blood as she was dragged by two guards into the city of Denerim. She barely saw it as she was brought to the pillory outside the goal and deposited; leaning against the wood pole she felt chains clamp around her hands, leashing her to the stake. She was in too much pain to care, too exhausted to do anything else but lean against the stake and shut her eyes. She’d done it. Taken down the monster who haunted her friends’ nights, killed the spectre. He couldn’t hurt anyone again.

Caden heard mutters and calls and opened her eyes a slit to see humans gathering to look at the latest criminal to face the humiliation of the stocks. She caught sight of a pair of elves who exchanged words and hurried towards the Alienage. Her hip was crying out for aid; the guards had hastily stuck a bandage around her side, and another on the thigh of the same leg where an earlier fight had wounded her, but it had been a rushed job. All things considered she had gotten off rather lightly in terms of injuries. She almost smiled at that.

She was outside the walls of the Alienage. It struck her suddenly as a remarkable thought. She rarely ventured outside those walls, being still considered a child, and so unable to seek employment in the city. Caden’s ventures beyond the walls were restricted to being kidnapped and then remaining outside as a criminal. What an illustrious career she was having as an adult. She glanced down at the gold band gleaming on her ring finger. They weren’t married and they never would be now, but Caden knew she was an adult. After what she’d been through in a few hours, she’d been catapulted into that milestone. She had just taken a different path than had been expected.

Time moved strangely for her on the stocks. It was still daylight, probably afternoon. The sun was bright as would befit the weather for Summerday and it shone down upon her in her blood-soaked gown. She probably looked a dreadful fright and indeed some mothers dragged their curious children past her with lightning speed. Caden just stood and rested as her skin burned and she waited. At least her state of dress probably helped keep the shems away; none of them were quite brave enough to approach her or throw anything and she was glad for that. Small mercies.

It wasn’t until the first glimmers of dusk started to cross the sky that she heard footsteps approaching her. Caden opened her eyes from a semi doze and blearily looked up as the captain of the guard walked up to her. As he drew closer, she realised that hahren Valendrian was with him. And behind him was the Grey Warden. She didn’t have the wherewithal to ask any questions, and besides there was dried blood all over her mouth and jaw and she wasn’t ready to face that taste when she started speaking. The smell was bad enough, the coppery tang camped out in her nose as it was.

She realised they were speaking amongst each other and she strained to focus on their words.

“…killed the Arls only son and heir. That’s murder and bad enough, but the Arl will not be happy when he returns from Ostagar.” The captain was saying.

“The girl was only defending herself,” Valendrian replied in a measured voice. “I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, but…”

“Yes, we all know what he was like,” the captain agreed in a low tone. Then he sighed. “I’d grant you that defence for his death, but there were five other guards dead in the estate, plus the cook was assaulted. Those can’t be chalked up to self-defence, not if she tracked through the estate to find him.” The captain caught Caden’s eye and shook his head sorrowfully. “I don’t see how she can avoid the executioner’s axe.”

Caden dropped her gaze to the ground. That was that, as clear as day. She had signed her own death warrant.

Then a new voice spoke up.

“There is one other option.” Caden peered up at the Grey Warden who was speaking now. “I could conscript her into the Grey Wardens. That is what I came here to do, to see if we could find any notable candidates.”

“You want this scrawny elf for your Wardens?” the captain asked jerking his thumb at the slumped form of Caden. She wanted to feel insulted, but she couldn’t argue with his assessment.

“Moral implications aside, she held her own against men twice her size and did not fall.” Duncan assessed. “I don’t condone murder, naturally, but you can’t deny her abilities.”

“You would take her?” Valendrian asked, not sounding at all surprised. It struck Caden then that this might have been a staged idea before they had approached the captain. “Save her from herself and put her to work for the good of the nation?” Oh yeah, that sounded planned for sure. Caden couldn’t form her features into anything mirthful, but she locked this conversation away for later.

“I would.” Duncan said. “I have the paperwork right here, if you would just sign your copy…”

The guard captain was no fool and he let out a sharp bark of laughter as he bent and signed his name on both forms, shaking his head in defeat. Then Duncan scrolled both sheets of parchment up and handed one to the captain, tucking the other into a scroll case at his belt. He gestured to the captain, who shook his head again and fished for the right keys to unlock Caden’s manacles. A click, and they fell away.

Just like that she was free.

Except not quite _free_ , Caden thought standing on shaky feet and looking to the Warden and her hahren. She was leaving one cage for another; she didn’t know much about the Grey Wardens, but conscription felt very final. They’d signed her over to this man, how was this any different to what Vaughan had proposed to her as an alternative to death? Presumably her virtue could remain intact, but other than that…

Caden opened her mouth, eyes struggling to focus now that she was fully upright on her own two, tired feet. “I need to see my father.”

“Sorry,” the captain said brusquely. “I can’t have that. If you’re taking her, you’re doing it now.”

“But—” Caden started, as Valendrian coaxed: “Let the girl say her goodbyes first.”

But the captain was firm. “I _can’t_. You’ve got to take her out of Denerim right away. Once word gets out that the Arls son was murdered by an elf, do you really think she’ll be safe? There’ll be a lynch mob assembled within moments and I need to keep the peace here. I can’t have her trotting all over the city while she gets herself ready. It’s too risky and, worst case scenario: your Alienage could be purged.”

A shiver ran down her back. Purged? Had she really brought her home that close to being decimated?

“But—” Caden tried again, speaking through her fears, her eyes imploring Valendrian to fight for her. He looked back at her and she could see he agreed.

“I will tell your father what has happened.” He said kindly. “Maker be with you, child.”

“My things.” Caden said abruptly. “They’re at my house, can’t I just—”

“Come, young one.” Duncan said. “We must be off lest you draw a crowd.”

Caden turned mournful eyes on him. She wanted to fight. Wanted to storm off to the Alienage, outrun these men and grab her things, say her farewells. She hadn’t eaten for so long, had worn herself out on adrenaline and bloodlust and so with one step she crumpled, caught by the man who now held papers of what felt very much like ownership. Caden let out a pathetic cry of frustration before the exhaustion finally beat her into sleep.

*****

When she woke up, she was being gently rocked, her back pressed against a warm body. It startled her awake; she gave a shriek and almost slipped off what she now realised was a horse. Large arms encircled her holding the reins and did not let her fall. “What…?”

“Awake I see.” She felt the rumble in his throat and chest as he spoke in that deep, soothing voice. Caden twisted and looked up into the bearded face of Duncan, his features shadowed in the gloom. She could smell the sweat on his chest where she had been resting against him.

“Put me down!” She said, at once. This felt uncomfortably close to being held down by Vaughan, the same sense of being too small, too weak to do anything about it. “ _Please_ ,” She hated the whine that crept into her tone.

To her surprise Duncan leaned back slightly, easing his mount to a halt and let Caden slip from the horses back. Her legs gave way as soon as she landed—it was higher than she’d expected—and she crashed backwards onto her hip, which protested angrily at the sudden pressure. She bit back most of the shout, but she hissed through her teeth at the pain. Duncan dismounted gracefully and patted his horse on the neck. “We need to make camp at any rate. I rode us further into the night than I had intended, but I thought it might be a shock if you woke in a stranger’s tent.”

Caden looked up at him, the moon bathing his face in a silvery glow. “Yeah, probably.” She retorted, in too much pain to drum up much sarcasm. Duncan nodded affably. That irritated her, and Caden rolled onto her knees slowly, feeling her wound ache with every motion.

Duncan turned back to the beast and started unbuckling the straps to loosen the tent and blankets. “For tonight I will erect the tent and begin the fire. But tomorrow I expect you to do this yourself, so pay attention.”

Caden felt around for a pithy response, but her hip was making it hard to think so she pulled herself into a somewhat comfortable sitting position and watched as Duncan first constructed a small fire by digging a shallow bowl in the dirt, lining the rim with stones and finally building the small pyramid with kindling underneath and wood on top. Within a short while the fire was crackling away, shedding better light on the ground where Duncan was putting together a relatively small canvas dwelling. Caden tried to pay attention completely, but he moved so fast and the light wasn’t that great, so it was hard to follow and she found herself becoming distracted. Her hip was still twinging and when she looked down, she realised she was still wearing her wedding dress, albeit underneath a travelling cloak. The sight of the dark, dried blood in the firelight was nauseating, but her stomach was too empty to protest anything more than a few dry heaves. She desperately needed a distraction, but Duncan had finished assembling the tent and had come to sit by the fire, rootling through his pack for rations. He laid out bread, some soft cheese wrapped in leaves and an apple each.

“Hardly fine dining, but it will do.” He said. Duncan looked up at Caden, who was turning the stiff fabric over in her hands. “I have some spare clothes if you would rather change. Nothing fancy, just a tunic and breeches.”

Caden threw him a sceptical look. “I don’t think your stuff would fit me.”

Duncan chuckled, spreading the cheese onto his slice of bread. “You are probably right, but these were collected from your home before I came to find you at the pillory.”

Caden’s eyes widened in shock. “That hardly makes them spare, then. If they are _my_ clothes.” She crossly got to her feet. “Where?”

Duncan gestured to the saddle he had removed from the horse, who was grazing nearby. Caden eyed the beast warily. It was big and looked heavy, and those hooves could probably deliver a painful kick. But the saddle looked far enough away that Caden felt she could safely approach it. She went to it and crouched by the bags, fishing through a sack he had not yet opened to find not only her clothes, but also a stack of letters, tied with ribbon and her three small books. Looking at the letters gave her a strange swooping feeling in her belly. Guilt sat heavily inside her when she thought of Nelaros, how he came to her Alienage and died within the day, slain by shems when he had tried to save her. The books at least were comforting and she cradled them to her, breathing in the scent of leather. Then another thought struck her and she stood and whirled around, startling the horse and causing her hip wound to flare up again. “Where is my knife?”

Duncan looked at her for a long while. “I presume you mean the tool with which you killed Vaughan Kendells?”

“He stabbed me with it,” she countered, ignoring his description. “Right here, right before he died. Where is it?”

“What do you remember?”

Caden placed her palm over the throbbing ache on her hip. “He stabbed me. I screamed. The guards came and took it out, and bandaged me and I fought them and one of them threw a punch.” Her hand crept up to her nose. “Then I was tied up and you came. Where is my knife?” The urgency had left her voice leaving only a desperate sadness behind. “I need it.”

Duncan took another bite of his meal and chewed it, watching her. Caden stood, clothes in one hand, books and letters in the other. When Duncan finally swallowed, he said: “I suspect they took it out and tossed it aside. Chances are it’s still lying in Vaughans bedchambers. Alternatively, a guard pocketed it.” He looked to the fire and popped the last morsel of bread and cheese in his mouth. “Either way, it’s gone.”

Caden stared across the firelight to him. Gone? Her knife— _her mother’s knife_ —lost in the estate of her abductor. It seemed like cruel punchline to a joke that she was the butt of. She clenched her fists around her things, holding back an scream of rage she could feel building in her throat. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair, not being dragged from her wedding at the whims of a shem, not having to turn to killing to make her friends lives safe, not being condemned to death nor being torn away from everything she’d known to join an order she barely understood, with no agreement from her. And not knowing where her knife was, that was the kicker. She turned and went inside the tent, where she couldn’t stand up so had to shimmy out of the ruined dress and contort herself into her clothes. Neither her hip nor her thigh were happy about being twisted into her breeches, but she pushed through the sharp pains and got herself dressed, balling up the dress—her mother’s dress, oh, Andraste, she was ruining every tangible memory she had of her mother—and sat for a moment. After drawing several long breaths, she decided she was too mad to calm down. Spoiling for a fight, she shoved back out of the tent.

“You can keep that bag,” Duncan said when she re-emerged. The wind knocked out of her sails, she frowned. “That one, where your things were being kept. You can have that bag.”

“I… alright.” Caden said, deliberately not saying thank you. She went to it and shoved her dress down into the bag and then piled the books and letters on top. At least her mothers’ boots were still fine, even while missing the knife for the hidden sheath. She could still feel anger coursing through her, even if Duncan had made some kind strides with her. He had brought her clothes and books and food, but he only had to do that because he’d stolen her. Cadens eyes narrowed and she turned, not leaving her pack. “You know this is akin to kidnap?” She glanced up, ensuring that he had heard her. He just watched her over the crackling logs. “That Right of Conscription thing? I take it you have to use it often?”

Duncan just watched her. It was infuriating. No-one was that placid. “Does it make you feel powerful to swoop in and force people to join your army?” She wished she was bigger, that her voice could carry further. She wished she could stand up and tower over him. Maybe he’d take her aggression more seriously then.

Finally, Duncan shifted in his seat and calmly responded: “Actually we find many people who wish to join up, but due to extenuating circumstances we are forced to use the Right in order to convince  _others_  to let them leave.”

Caden felt her interest piqued. She moved closer to the fire, sitting down on the ground so that she could better see and hear the Warden.

"Like what?" she asked in spite of herself.

"If we conscript a mage, usually." Duncan explained, taking a sip from his water skin. "Often the Templars do not wish to release them into someone else’s responsibility. I have also had to use it in Orzammar should a casteless dwarf be in the employ of one unwilling to part with them." He gave her a sideways glance. "The last Warden I conscripted was training to be a Templar. I almost had to use the Right, but the Revered Mother acquiesced eventually, allowing me to take him."

"Oh." Caden said quietly. She had never heard of Orzammer and she knew that mages existed, but she didn’t recognise the word Templars. Despite her assertion that she was a fully-fledged adult in the big wide world now, she began to think she was more like a baby adult. With a lot more to learn.

“Eat something.” Duncan said, nodding to her untouched rations. “You’ll feel better.”

Caden did as instructed as her belly was starting to growl. She couldn’t work out this strange human. He seemed utterly impassive and hard to read, but then she had previously only known humans who were very much open about their wants and desires. Either Chantry sisters who preached the stories of the Maker and Andraste, or men who wanted one specific thing. She found herself wanting to continue this conversation as she ate. “Do you often find recruits at Alienages?” she asked after a moment.

“Not often, I have to say.” Duncan said regretfully. “Those we recruit need to already be trained in fighting, in discipline. They need to be strong and clever and we only take the best. Sadly, as you know elves are not often trained in the art of fighting and they tend to be malnourished and weak. Of course, there are always exceptions to be made.” He added with a pointed look at Caden. “We sometimes find the Dalish to be more what we seek, yet on the whole they tend to be reluctant to leave their clans.”

“Wait, the Dalish really exist? You’ve met them?” Caden asked, momentarily forgetting her earlier question.

“Oh yes,” Duncan said with a chuckle. “There are more camps than you might imagine, but they are a secretive people and difficult to track down.”

Caden thought about this as she chewed her bread and cast her mind back to the days when she had first heard of the Dalish. She had been a small girl and overheard some of the elders talking about a group of boys who had left to find the Dalish. She had asked her mother about them and been regaled with stories of tribes of elves who lived free from humans and whom the humans feared, instead of the other way around. It was around that time that Adaia had begun to teach Caden the art of fighting.

Caden sighed at this memory. If Duncan heard her, he declined to push for an explanation.

“Now then,” he said instead. “I’ll take the first watch so you can get some sleep.”

“But I slept on the horse.” Caden protested. “I’m not tired, so I’ll stay up.” She shrugged. “Honestly, you go ahead.”

Duncan nodded. “Very well. I will get some shut eye.” He gestured to the moon and then moved his pointed finger to a new spot. “When the moon reaches that part of the sky, wake me and we’ll swap.”

Caden nodded. She watched him disappear into the tent and then she was alone with the horse. Her mind wandered to the notion of fleeing, but she quickly shut it down. She couldn’t ride, she couldn’t even saddle or climb aboard the damn beast and even then, where would she go? She was in entirely unfamiliar territory and they weren’t even on a road that she could follow. Instead Caden concentrated on the fire, making sure it didn’t die down as the chill picked up. She wrapped a cloak around herself and watched the heavens. There were so many stars scattered above her. Caden felt very small and lost beneath the tapestry of night sky.

The next morning after Caden had been roused at dawn by Duncan and helped pack up the camp, she was dismayed to realise she would have to travel on the horse again with Duncan. There was no way around it, she knew, but she couldn’t help but argue against the close quarters of their ride. Eventually Duncan told her plainly that even cutting through the land as they were it would take at least five days to reach Ostagar and so any arguments delaying their return would mean more riding together. Caden gritted her teeth and climbed up behind Duncan. As she clutched at his travelling clothes and the horse began to move, she asked: “What’s at Ostagar?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song Can't Cheat Death by The Ballroom Thieves.


	4. Vagabond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn what's at Ostagar, and Duncan acquires another new recruit.

** Vagabond **

_Tell me where to go from here, so I can rewrite all my wrongs_

****

The sun rose as it always did over the worn battlements of Ostagar and the new morning began again with not enough breakfast cheese. This was the thought that came to the Junior Warden as he sat down at the table in the Grey Warden mess tent and looked gloomily down at his plate. It was never the same when Duncan was away. Warden-Commander Duncan that was. It wasn’t a good idea to be too familiar with the leader of the Ferelden Grey Wardens, but of course he _was_ close with Duncan and that was part of the reason Alistair found himself dining alone. Surrounded by his fellow Wardens naturally, but lonely even so. He was the most junior recruit, only six months in, and while it had been a great honour to be allowed to join, he had not quite expected a war so soon, let alone a possible, honest-to-Maker Blight. He’d barely gotten used to the Grey Warden compound in Denerim before they’d been decamped to Ostagar to await the darkspawn horde.

That was why Duncan was travelling; the Grey Wardens of Ferelden stood at twenty-three strong, which was the highest number in two decades after being allowed back into the country by the former monarch. He had not been the only one to venture forth for recruitment efforts, but he was the only one still in the field. Senior Warden Robert had returned from the North with a knight from Highever who had won a grand tournament. Alistair sighed as he took a sip of his drink. Duncan would not be pleased; Ser Jory had a wife and child on the way, which would usually discount him from Duncans recruitment. He favoured those not in relationships, those who didn’t have responsibilities and lives to leave behind. Still, Alistair had watched Ser Jory and sparred with him for the past few days and couldn’t deny that the man had skill. Wardens Leland and Harris had returned empty handed, the former having been forced to leave Orzammar early after some ruckus involving the three children of King Endrin Aeducan, the latter having been unable to track the Dalish from their last know encampment. There was a time limit for how long they could be away and although Duncan was cutting it fine, Alistair had faith in his mentor. Not only would he have found a Warden-Recruit, but the recruit would be the finest of the small batch.

After breakfast Alistair headed to the training area. The Grey Wardens section of the total camp was large given their number, a direct side effect of the adoration the current king had for the order. He associated the order with glory and valour, which was very nice, but did mean the king often descended into their ranks to watch them train. He wasn’t present when Alistair picked up his training sword and shield and began to warm up with one of the straw dummies.

A short while later Ser Jory arrived at the training area and Alistair nodded him over. It was his job to take recruits under his wing, even if said recruits only numbered that one. Jory favoured a two-handed weapon, so once he’d gotten his muscles warmed up, he stepped over to Alistair with his great sword and the two began to gently spar.

It was good, Alistair felt, to spar against someone with a different skill set to him. Kept things a bit looser and more interesting. The majority of his compatriots were sword and shield men like himself, at least as far as their warrior class went. Additionally, they also counted a handful of archers amongst their numbers, along with their two mages. Jory stood out alone as the wielder of a great weapon.

Alistair brought up his shield to meet Jorys downward swing, then responded with a swipe to his side that struck. Jory grimaced—the weapons were blunt, but could still lead to a bruise or two—and stepped back to give himself more room to build up another hit. That was the thing about great weapons, Alistair mused as he dove to the side. They packed a hefty punch and could be fatal if they hit the right way, but even for a heavily armoured warrior such as himself, there was usually time enough to dodge or block. Alistair had always felt like that, big and obvious, just like the build up to a great sword hit, but ironically did not favour those himself. When Jory tried something clever, a thrust to Alistairs legs, he was only just able to leap over the sword and bash his shield against Jorys chest, staggering him nicely. That was his preference: the shield was protection, but also made a pretty good offensive weapon if need be. Jory stumbled to his knees and Alistair brought his training sword to his throat. He’d won that bout.

The sound of clapping reached his ears, and he turned slowly, certain it wouldn’t be for him, not Duncans Favourite. No, applause for him usually came from him dropping something or tripping over his boots in public. Alistair looked up and his heart sank as he spotted the clapping watcher, the gold-plated armour a dead giveaway. Keeping his face as neutral as possible, he nodded to King Cailan as thanks for his assessment. The skin on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably as he turned back to the fray, taking on Jory for a second time. This time he was distracted by the watchful gaze of his king and made a sloppy mistake, allowing Jory to hammer him with the flat of his blade. Alistair let out an “oof” as the wind blew out of him and faltered to the side. Jory, to his credit, was most apologetic at the force he’d used and helped the Junior Warden to his feet. Alistair couldn’t help a glance back to where the king was now standing with the Teryn of Gwaren and was saying something to the dour man, whilst still watching Alistair. His discomfort intensified.

Turning away from the figures, Alistair shook himself and readied himself for another bout of sparring with Jory.

 

*

 

“The last time I went to your Alienage I almost recruited your mother,” Duncan said as they came back to a walk, following a frankly terrifying canter along a smooth stretch of fields. Caden, who had been clinging to him for dear life, relaxed her grip in surprise.

“What?” She asked. “When.” This was brand new information.

“A long time ago, before you were born,” Duncan explained, scratching the horse’s neck with affection. “I had heard tell that there was a troublemaker in the Alienage who was a menace to every human who entered. Of course, this was told to me by humans, so naturally they would say that and so I took it with a pinch of salt. I still wanted to follow the rumours and they proved rather true when I met Adaia; she greeted me with a level of contempt and aggression the like I’ve rarely seen since.” He chuckled at the memory.

Caden waited, but when no more of the story was forthcoming, she had to ask: “So, why didn’t you recruit her?”

“Valendrian convinced me not to.” Duncan said. “Apparently Adaia was being courted by a handsome young elf by the name of Cyrion and Valendrian believed my taking Adaia away would cause needless misery in both younglings. As we were not in any dire need of Wardens I let them be, and I am glad I did. Grey Wardens have a hard life separated from their families with no true home and I am so happy to see that Adaia found love with your father and that they were blessed with you.”

“My mother taught me everything I know about fighting.” Caden said thoughtfully. “And she told me stories about the Wardens, but she never said she was nearly one of them.”

“I thought that must have been where you learned it.” Duncan said. “I was saddened to hear of her death.”

Caden bit her lip for a moment. She wasn’t sure why, but she opened her mouth and said: “There was a sickness. In the Alienage. Fever and pain. We both got sick, when I was twelve. I got better, but she died. Quite quickly. I was asleep because of my fever and she was asleep with me and then I woke up and… she was gone.”

Duncan didn’t add anything to that, which was probably just as well as Cadens eyes were getting hot and scratchy at this memory. They crested a hill and pressed on until the horse picked up his head, ears forward and alert. Caden gripped Duncan tightly; she didn’t like it when the horse did things like this. She much preferred the thought that the beast would just do as Duncan commanded, without any autonomy of its own. Duncan spoke softly to him. “Whoa boy, what can you see?” Duncan brought him to a stop and peered around. The horse let out a high-pitched whinny that almost made Caden leap off his back in fright, but then there came an answering call. Duncan nudged the horse into a trot and followed the hill around.

“Ho there!” Caden heard Duncan call out. She held on firmly and tried to peer around him. There was a young man on the outskirts of the forest they were travelling alongside. He had dark hair and three horses. That was all she could perceive. Duncan brought the horse closer. “Those are some fine steeds you have there.”

The man looked shifty enough that even Caden could spot it from her terrible vantage point. “Yes, I’ve, er, just bought these horses and I’m transporting them home.”

Duncan stopped his mount. “Really? Interesting crest on the saddle cloths.”

The man stole a glance to the horses. He was standing on the ground which was the only reason Caden guessed for why he wasn’t fleeing over the next set of hills. He looked nervous enough for a sudden flight. While the man considered his response Caden quickly took in the crest Duncan had alluded to. The saddle cloths on the three steeds were all dark blue, with embroidered golden symbols in the corner. She didn’t recognise whatever it was supposed to be, of course, just one more failure in her education, but Duncan clearly did. With a glance to the shifty man Caden could see he didn’t recognise the crests either.

“Yeah, well, I’m going to turn my nose up at horses and their tack.” The man said after a pause. “No matter what the art work is.”

Duncan dropped his reins and in a smooth motion swung his leg over the horses neck, sliding down from the saddle without disrupting Caden much; she had been holding him after all, but she quickly let go when she realised he was dismounting. Now she was sat just behind the saddle on an uncontrolled horse, so she quickly got off before the horse got any ideas about bolting. Apparently, the extent of his ideas was to lower his head to the ground and munch on the grass.

Duncan strode casually over to the man, who stood up tall, though his eyes were wide. Duncan viewed the horses up close, giving the nearest one a pat. “These horses don’t belong to you, young man.” Duncan said firmly. “Do they?”

“No—I bought them…”

“Son, don’t try to fool me.” Duncan interrupted. “They bear the Cousland crest on their tack and they are clearly warhorses. Now I can only imagine two reasons for how they came to be in your keep. Either you assaulted or murdered their riders to claim them as your own, or you came across them along with their deceased riders. So, which is it?”

Caden watched this exchange silently, but she could feel the tension coming off the young man holding the three sets of reins.

“The… the second one.” He said finally. He put all three reins in the same hand and dug into his pocket, pulling out some papers. “I’m not a total arsehole, I swear. Here are the rider’s identifications.”

Duncan looked over the parchment, nodding to himself. “I know these men, or rather I know their commander. Thank you for these, I will make sure they get to Fergus Cousland so he knows what happened to his men.” Caden watched as Duncan added these notes to the scroll case where her own papers sat. “In fact, you can help me do it. These horses do not belong to you, so I need to return them to Ostagar where they can be assigned to other soldiers.”

“But—”

“And despite the riders being no longer on this mortal plain, you are a horse thief, Master…?”

“Daveth.” The man said grudgingly.

“Daveth.” Duncan nodded. “There is a war on and every man and woman should know better than to hoard fine beasts such as these rather than handing them back to king and country. I will have you ride with us to Ostagar, not two days hence. And you can help me track down Fergus Cousland to tell him what you know of the manner in which his men died.”

“Why should I do any of that?” Daveth asked, practically pouting. Caden rolled her eyes.

“Because there is a war on,” Duncan said again. “A Blight in fact and we need every resource we can and that includes Warden-Recruits.”

Daveths eyes went very round as his mouth dropped open in shock. “You… you’re Grey Wardens?” Finally, his gaze flickered to Cadens and she caught his confusion at her presence. “Truly?”

“Truly.” Duncan nodded, smiling. “I take it you’ve heard of us.”

“Oh… oh yes, sir, I have,” Daveth said eagerly. Caden snorted at how quickly he’d turned to fawning. “I would be honoured to join the Wardens. It’s true then? There is a Blight?”

“Yes, it’s true.” Duncan save gravely. Then he turned back to Caden. “Caden, come and meet your fellow recruit. And now you can have your own horse as well!”

Caden trudged gloomily closer. Two of the horses were very tall, the third a delicately slender beast, which pranced as it stood, while the other two ate from the grass like Duncans horse. She didn’t want to ride with Duncan anymore, but she didn’t really want to ride by herself either. She didn’t want to ride at all.

“Daveth, this is Caden.” Duncan introduced them. Daveth nodded to her, while she just stared back, arms folded. At least this shem was marginally closer in build to her, though he was still taller. “I recruited Caden from Denerim.”

“That’s where I hail from.” Daveth said. “We could have been neighbours.”

“No.” Caden replied curtly. Daveth’s brows quirked and he glanced back at Duncan who was back to being totally unreadable.

“Do you have a preference for your ride, Daveth?” Duncan asked. Daveth turned and looked over the horses.

“I’m rather taken with the big chestnut fellow.” He said, running a hand along his neck. Duncan nodded.

“Very well. Now Caden which of the remaining two would you prefer?”

Caden sighed and stared at the horses. She had no idea. “I don’t know. The white one is smaller.” She shrugged. “I don’t fancy falling off that other one.”

“Ah, but this grey mare is built for speed and agility.” Duncan said, taking the reins of the smaller horse from Daveth. “See how she can’t keep still? She won’t want to hold back and she’ll give you trouble. Now this gentleman here,” He took the reins of the last horse, the one that was the colour of mud apart from his legs, muzzle, mane and tail which were black. The horse ambled closer to Duncan, sniffing his arm. “He might be bigger and thereby seem off-putting to you, but often you’ll find the bigger they are, the kinder they are as well. This horse will look after you.”

He held out the reins to Caden and she took them mutely. It felt like she had just failed a test and she couldn’t help but begrudge the fact that if Duncan had had a plan in mind, he really oughtn’t have asked her opinion. Not if he was going to ignore it because he knew best. The horse stuck his nose into her elbow and Caden froze, while he sniffed. Tentatively she raised her other hand and pressed it to the large forehead, brushing aside the forelock and finding a small white splodge of fur underneath. The horse gently nuzzled her side. He was big, but he felt soft and warm. “Alright, fine.” She muttered to the beast. “Just behave for me, please?” The horse raised his head and snorted hot breath on her neck.

“Would you like a boost?” Daveth was asking. Caden turned and glared.

“What?”

“Onto his back.” Daveth gestured. “Or can you get on from the ground?”

Caden looked at the horse. There was no way she was getting her foot into the stirrup and then the rest of her onto his back. She took a deep breath. “Fine.”

Daveth came up beside her and laced his hands together. With her heart hammering unpleasantly, Caden stepped into his hands and let him help guide her up so she could mount the damn horse. It was truly very high on his back, but he seemed unperturbed by his new rider. Caden felt Daveth nudge her thigh and she moved it back, looking down with cutting words on her tongue, but she realised before she could speak that he was tightening the horse’s girth and then adjusting the stirrups for her. The horse’s previous rider certainly had had longer legs. Caden flushed as Daveth busied himself and tried to ignore him. The men both mounted their steeds, with Duncan holding the reins of the grey mare and they began to ride.

Caden gripped the saddle with her knees and hoped Duncans assessment of the horse was accurate. She could see the grey mare throwing her head around a little bit as she walked alongside his horse, so she had to admit he was probably right with that one. She looked over to Daveth, who was riding beside Duncan and apparently giving him his life story, peppered with questions about the Wardens. She couldn’t quite believe how quickly he’d signed up to the order. It seemed worlds away from her conscription in lieu of death.

The horse beneath her walked steadily and sure and she found that after a while she became used to the rhythm of his hoofbeats. It was far more comfortable in the saddle, instead of perched behind it and behind Duncan. While they walked slowly and her horse kept up the gentle pace, she could handle this. She didn’t join in the conversation while they rode and when it came time to make camp, she found herself giving her mount some extra thanks before building the fire for them. That night they had shorter watches as there were now three of them, and thanks to the still intact pack on Daveths horse, they had two tents instead of one. Duncan was in good spirits as they ate their carrot and potato stew and happily took the first watch so the recruits could retire to their tents for the night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a song by Wild.


	5. Come As You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caden reaches Ostagar and learns what it feels like to be so utterly out of place.

** Come As You Are **

_Take your time, hurry up, the choice is yours, don't be late_

 

By the time they reached the fortress and the war camp on the edge of the Korkari Wilds, Caden had reached a comfortable alliance with her steed. True to Duncans word he had been gentle with her tentative guiding and easy enough to hang on to when they tried a few faster gaits. His trot was bouncy and unpleasant, but his canter was surprisingly easy to sit to, given how long his strides were. Even so she had been glad that they mostly walked at a quick pace in order to reach Ostagar.

Caden looked around as they passed by the palisades surrounding the crumbling fortress. The soldiers on patrol all nodded to Duncan, aware of who he was. In between these palisades and the outer walls were battalions of tents with soldiers milling about. Different factions were denoted by their brightly coloured banners that flapped in the breeze. To get into the war camp proper they would have to cross a bridge into the fortress, but first Duncan explained that they needed to find the master of horses and hand over their steeds. Caden just followed the two men through the tents until they came to the makeshift stabling and handed over their beasts. Duncan’s was his own and would be stabled with the other Grey Warden horses, whereas the three Daveth had acquired were to be returned to the Cousland section. Duncan exchanged some words with the master and learned that Fergus Cousland was out of camp on a mission, but they would see that his horses were returned to his men when they reached camp again upon completion of their task.

Duncan lead his new recruits across the bridge into the camp, where Caden could spy more bright canvas through holes and gaps in the old walls. It was a very surreal experience and once she was off the horse she was back to feeling very small. Like a young child trailing behind her father instead of an adult who was being recruited into a fighting faction. It was disarming to be surrounded by so many humans in armour, though as they walked, she spotted a small group of what she could only imagine were dwarves. Daveth followed her gaze and had no qualms about asking Duncan to confirm that they were in fact dwarves. It was easy for him, Caden thought bitterly, he would fit in here with no problem. He could have no issue asking questions that she felt would mark her out as stupid. She was running to catch up, literally in fact, as they marched across the bridge. Duncan nodded to Daveths questions.

“They are surface dwarves,” he responded as he walked. “Orzammar have not responded to calls for aid, but then they are only ever called upon when things are terribly dire. They are the frontline defence of darkspawn usually, being the gate keepers to the Deep Roads.” Caden wished Daveth would ask more about them as it sounded interesting, but he got distracted by the sight of a duo of soldiers transporting a fallen comrade on a stretcher.

“How exactly is the fighting going?” he asked, an edge of concern creeping into his tone.

“The kings forces have faced a few skirmishes and won every single one thus far,” Duncan replied easily. “We have yet to see the bulk of the darkspawn army, but this is the best place to face them. Which is one reason why all of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden are currently within these walls, ready for you to join them.” 

Caden was looking back at the dwarves when one raised a hand in greeting. She responded in kind, and found herself suddenly walking into the back of Daveth. She coloured at once and leapt back, annoyed at herself for making herself look a fool. Daveth just smiled at her, then turned his head to the reason the men had stopped in their tracks.

“Duncan!” a golden-haired man in golden armour was greeting the Grey Warden warmly. “It is good to see you again, my friend.”

“King Cailan,” Duncan replied, placing his right fist against his chest and bowing. Daveth hurried to copy him, but Caden was entranced by the wolf face depicted on the front of the kings chest to think on her feet.

A tall, lithe figure at the kings side tutted and as Caden looked at him he sneered down at her. “Bow before your king, elf.” He demanded officiously.

Caden blinked and looked back at the golden man who was beaming at her. “It’s fine, really, I keep telling Duncan not to be so formal all the time. We’re going to face the enemy on the battlefield together after all, we’re not hosting a tea party in this old place!”

Caden frowned. He was a very strange human, especially for the man who was in charge of the country. She glanced warily at Duncan, unsure whether she ought to say something in response.

“Your majesty, this is Daveth Jones and Caden Tabris.” Duncan introduced them.

“Well met, both of you.” Kind Cailan smiled at them in turn. “I look forward to heading into battle with you both and the rest of the Wardens.”

“They have to pass the Joining first, your majesty.” Duncan reminded him, but the king waved a hand dismissively.  

“I’m sure they will.” Cailan said. “Duncan only ever recruits the best of the best.”

Caden looked down at herself, sweaty and dirty from travelling for five days, her skinny limbs weary from getting used to riding. She didn’t exactly feel like the best. She realised she’d not listened when the king phrased a question to her, and she looked up. “Sorry what?”

The tall man tutted again, louder and more pointedly. Cailan just smiled encouragingly. “Duncan said you hail from Denerim, from the Alienage there? Never had the chance to grace the place myself—my advisors seemed to think it unsafe—ridiculous notion! How are things there of late?”

Caden opened her mouth and tried to say something polite, but the tiredness seized her tongue and she blurted out: “Arl Kendalls son kidnapped me and my friend so I killed him before he could rape us.” She froze when she realised what she’d said, clamping her mouth shut with force. There was a stunned silence all around. Daveth even took a step back. The king’s advisor beside him looked shocked, and King Cailan turned to Duncan for clarification.

“It’s true, my liege,” Duncan stepped in for the second time since Caden had been introduced to him. “The elves of Denerim have long lived under the cruelty of the Arls son. I have been advised that this sort of behaviour is sadly uncommon. Caden here was moments from being married when Vaughan descended on the wedding party to steal the women away.” Caden nodded silently avoiding everyone’s gazes. She felt very awkward and foolish.

The kings face set into a determined gaze and he actually placed a hand on Cadens shoulder. She forced herself not to flinch at the touch of his hand. “I swear you now that as soon as we are finished here, I will return to Denerim and set this right. I won't have citizens of my city being treated in such a way, whether they live within the walls of an Alienage or outside of it.”

Caden couldn’t speak for a moment. “I… thank you, your majesty,” she said, finally bowing her head to him in gratitude of this promise. She couldn’t help the niggle of pessimism that suggested that this would be forgotten about in the aftermath of the war, but for now it was something to have the king himself seem to care.

Cailan nodded in response then turned back to Duncan. “I’m afraid I’m expected back at my tent for yet another lecture by Loghain about tactics. No doubt he’ll have gone over my latest plans and be waiting with a list as long as my arm of all its faults.” Cailan rolled his eyes in a decidedly unroyal manner. “I’ve fought three battles with these blasted darkspawn and won _every_ time. I know what I’m doing.”

“Have reinforcements arrived yet? Redcliffe for instance?” Duncan wanted to know.

“Oh, Eamon is standing by, waiting for my summons, but it’s not necessary.” Cailan laughed. “He just wants in on the glory, and why wouldn’t he: fighting alongside the Grey Wardens like in legends of old? I for one can’t wait. All we need now is for the Archdemon to appear to cement this as a true Blight.” He winked at Caden who grimaced instinctively at the overly familiar demeanour. Cailan didn’t notice. “Between you and me I’m not convinced this is a real Blight at all. Anyway, I’ll see you soon, Duncan. Glad you’re back.” The king turned and headed off, trailed by his advisors. The tall one looked back at Caden over his shoulder with a dark look and she had to fight the urge to respond with a rude gesture at him as he went.

Duncan gestured for the two recruits to follow him and headed further into camp. Daveth shot a look at Caden, but she turned her head, unwilling to meet his curious gaze. They weren’t friends and she wasn’t interested in giving him any part of her life story. That he had heard about the most controversial moment was merely an annoying happenstance. He would get nothing more from her, she resolved. Caden just wanted to know what to do next and stretching her legs, which were stiff from riding, was welcomed. She hoped they could complete a circuit or two of the camp to loosen her muscles and then perhaps food and bed would be nice. Daveth gave up trying to catch her eye and sped up to walk alongside Duncan. “So, the king seems confident.”

“Indeed, he does.” Duncan replied.

“So, is it a real Blight?” Daveth asked after a pause. “Like in the stories?”

“King Cailan is correct in that we’ve not yet seen the Archdemon,” Duncan said in a measured tone. “However, I don’t believe we’ve seen anywhere near the extent of the darkspawn forces. With the speed at which the darkspawn are building their numbers, I feel certain there is an Archdemon behind this, just waiting to show up… I can’t spur the king into action on a feeling, though.”

Caden barely heard them talk. She was getting tired, much more tired than she had felt even an hour earlier. She started to fall back, stopped rushing to keep pace with the men who were deep in conversation. A flash of purple caught her eye and she turned her head to the right, spying more tents through the walls, but this was accompanied by literal flashes of purple. Curious, Caden broke off from her fellows and started to follow the bursts of gleaming colour. Her tired feet stumbled over the aged stones as she drew up to find a loose circle of robed figures surrounded another, who appeared to be in some sort of trance. The circled folk were waving their hands and murmuring recitations quietly as purple light swirled around the group, almost obscuring the centred figure.

With a start, Caden spotted pointed ears on one of the robed people and she pressed towards them, heedless of the strange magic that was occurring for a moment. “Whoa there!” came a gentle, but firm order as an armoured chest with a large sword motif moved to stand before her. The order didn’t sound angry, but it was hard to tell for sure as Caden looked up into the helmet that hid the persons face entirely. “We have a mage in the Fade here. They mustn’t be disturbed.”

Caden didn’t know what that meant, but she nodded dumbly and turned around. With a few steps she realised she had lost sight of Duncan and Daveth entirely. Damn.

She peered around, pushing up on her tiptoes to try to see if she could spot the men, but it was all in vain. They'd moved on and she'd completely lost her sense of direction. She searched her brain for the smallest titbit of information about the Grey Wardens section of the camp, to find that she'd either totally ignored Duncan or had refused to keep hold of the details. Well, that's what she got for zoning out on the chatter of the men, she berated herself.

"Are you lost, dear?" Came a voice. Caden spun around, already soothed by the maternal tones, the words a soothing balm on her scattered and tired mind. She found the woman who'd spoken. She was standing on the outside of the mages section, her back against the wall. She wore long faded red and orange robes and she was smoking a long pipe as she surveyed Caden. "You certainly look lost. Can I help at all?"

There was nothing accusatory in her voice, nothing which suggested Caden ought not to be there, in spite of the woman repeating the fact that she looked to be misplaced. Even as a small part of Caden wanted to rile against that assertion, she found the woman’s tone too gentle for someone picking a fight. Perhaps this human woman did care that she was over her head and really did want to help. Wouldn't that be something? Caden took a few steps closer.

"Actually I am." She admitted. "I've only just arrived at Ostagar and I've lost my bearings already."

"It can be overwhelming," the woman agreed, taking a long puff from her pipe. "Is this your first time seeing battle?"

"I..." Caden hesitated. She had almost forgotten the being-at-war part of being there. King Cailan had spoken of the Grey Wardens being on the front line with him. Surely that didn't include someone as green as her? "I guess so."

The woman smiled sympathetically. "You get used to it very quickly. I'm an old hand; a battle mage from the Circle at Kinloch Hold." Caden nodded, but most of those words went straight over her head. The one she did pick up on was mage; so this woman was a magic user after all. It made sense, what with her wearing similar robes to the figures from before, not to mention that she was enjoying her sweet-smelling smoke just on the edge of the mages section. "The name's Wynne."

Caden offered a tired smile. "Caden."

Wynne returned the smile and took another puff. Caden watched her mesmerised as she blew perfectly formed rings into the air that dissipated the higher up they floated.

"You look dead on your feet, Caden." Wynne remarked gently. "Where is it you are headed?"

Caden blinked slowly. "Er... the Grey Warden tents."

Wynne looked impressed. "Ah, a new recruit I take it? Congratulations, I presume you arrived here with Duncan? He is a man not easily impressed, so you have already conquered a tough hurdle. Good luck to you with the rest of your trials before your Joining." Wynne tapped the pipe bowl against her palm. "The Grey Warden tents are not far from the centre of camp, just off side from the royal encampment. Head down that way," she gestured with the long pipe. "then bear right and up the ramp and you should see it. The Grey Warden colours, as I'm sure you know, are blue and silver and their banners should let you know you're in the right place. And look for the crest, the silver griffon." Wynne stepped back and dropped her arm. "You can't miss them, but if you do the royal tents are golden yellow, with a dog sigil. They'll be very close to the Wardens." Wynne ran her gaze over Caden once more, denarrowing her sharp eyes. "Can you make it?"

Caden nodded assertively. "Yes, I'm fine. Just tired. Thank you for your help." She turned away, leaving Wynne to her pipe.

Walking away from the mage, Caden followed the directions she had been given. She walked by a dais on which a Lay Sister was praying over some kneeling soldiers, the Chant of Light melodic in the late afternoon air. She walked by a demonstration on general was giving to some infantrymen as he stood beside a dead darkspawn. So that's what they look like, she thought as her feet came to a stop, rooted to the ground by the twisted sight before her. Caden wasn't sure what she'd had in mind for these creatures, but it looked a wretched thing, rigid in death, its mouth open in a rictus snarl, skin grey and sallow. She suppressed a shudder and walked on, heading for the ramp Wynne had said would be around here.

As she turned, she heard a shout. "You there, elf!" Caden froze at the words. "Yeah, you. Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for my order for the past hour! I ought to box your damned ears.”

Caden turned to see a burly man striding over to her. The feelings of fear and humiliation felt for many years in the Alienage caused by humans like this one came flooding back. With it came the fury and indignation she had always been taught to suppress. The soldiers around them hushed as they looked over at the commotion. Caden fixed cold eyes on the man who was nearly twice her height. Her tiredness fled as the anger surged in her, no longer held at bay. "How dare you speak to me like that." She snapped, angrily. "Do you address every one of these soldiers in such a way or is this treatment reserved for your servants?"

The man stopped mid-stride and his face paled. He held up his hands in a gesture of forgiveness. "Oh, my apologies!" he said quickly. "You aren’t who I thought you were… I must have been mistaken."

"Yes, you must have." She snarled, not willing to forgive this error, thrilled by the fact that she was able to assert herself for once and to have this human apologise. "I would suggest you remember this the next time you speak to an elf with such disdain."

"I will," he muttered hurriedly, before backing away. Caden bit back a smirk. She felt oddly more victorious then than she had done back at the palace in Denerim. The smirk died as the images from that night a week ago flooded back into her mind and she shuddered instead. She gritted her teeth: best not to think about it.

"I think you made him cry," one of the soldiers watching said. "Look, there he goes, off to hide his manly tears."

Caden glared at the man making a joke out of her moment of victory. "Who asked you?" She spat.

The soldier held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "No-one, clearly. Just giving my humble opinion."

"I don't want it," she muttered, the fatigue creeping back in.

"Nobody ever wants it," he said matter of factly. "My opinion is like this Blight; relentless, ever growing and of course, unwelcome!" He didn't seem remotely perturbed by Cadens frown or the fact that she was trying to ignore him. Without making an attempt at politely ending the unwanted conversation, Caden spun on her heel and walked away, heading up the ramp. After a few moments she heard footsteps behind and she looked back over her shoulder as she walked. The soldier looked serene as he came up alongside her.

"Are you following me?" Caden asked with a scowl.

"Hmm, me?" the soldier asked, startling as if he'd forgotten she was there. "No, I guess we're just going the same way."

"I doubt that very much," Caden bit back. The soldier smiled anyway.

"Well, we're both going in this direction, so I guess we are going the same way." The soldier responded evenly, before letting a gentle ribbing tone into his voice. "It's so nice to walk in the company of friends, don't you think?"

As he drew closer, Caden couldn't help but shrink away, lest his swinging arms brush against her. Her fingers itched to reach for her knife, but of course it wasn't there, she remembered with a jolt. "Can you back off?"

The soldier finally looked like he was hearing her discomfort. The easy smile slid from his face and was replaced by a look of confusion. "I'm sorry, what am I doing wrong?"

Caden didn't know how to answer that. It was too overwhelming, being surrounded by all this aged ruin dotted about with splashes of dyed canvas, this place that was built by humans for humans so everywhere was so big and imposing, and then of course it was mostly populated by humans, who were big and wide and broad. Caden had so far been thrust into uncomfortable conversation with who else but the king of Ferelden, gotten lost and now was being shadowed by this man who loomed over her. It was all just too much. She turned and caught sight of the blue and silver crest and stalked towards it hurriedly. She had no idea what a griffon was but the colours reminded her of Duncans clothes so that was good enough for her.

As if thinking of him summoned the man, Caden spotted the Warden Commander walk out of a tent and made a beeline for him. She pointedly ignored the soldier who had annoyed her so much, but out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of him coming up alongside her again as she stopped before Duncan, who smiled.

"Ah, Caden, you found us." He didn't seem cross that she'd gotten waylaid; he just sounded happy to see her. Then his eyes moved from Caden to the soldier and he nodded a greeting. "And you found Alistair as well. That's good." Behind Duncan, Daveth and a man with red hair she didn't recognise walked over to her and stood beside her, facing the Warden Commander as the soldier took his place next to Duncan. "Alistair, this is Daveth and you already know Ser Jory. Recruits, this is our Junior Warden Alistair. He'll be in charge of your mission tomorrow in preparation for your Joining."

Caden bit back a groan and slowly raised her eyes to look upon the smiling face of the soldier Duncan had introduced as Alistair. Junior Warden and the man in charge of taking them someone tomorrow. She felt her heart sink at how rudely she'd spoken to him, even as a fire in her belly reminded her of how obnoxious he had been. She would have to temper those flames by tomorrow. Alistair was still smiling as Duncan spoke to him about how he'd come to recruit Daveth. Caden watched him closely. He would have to stop being so damn cheerful if she was to manage that. Alistair caught her looking and grinned at her, his face beaming so brightly it made her eyes hurt. He would be hard work, she could tell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come As You Are is a song by Nirvana and now my fifth chapter title. It's already quite an eclectic mix of music and we've only just reached Ostagar! 
> 
> Quite a busy chapter really; meeting the King and Wynne and Alistair and poor old Caden is totally at a loss to know how to comfortably exist in this place. Wynne always kind of struck me as an aged punk, hence her standing on the outskirts having a smoke. She's like the teacher at school who seems to be a million years old compared to the teens she's teaching, but she knows every trick in the book because she bloody well wrote the book and nothing gets past her.  
> Caden just has no idea how to cope with meeting Cailan or Alistair!


	6. Far From Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caden meets the last recruit and struggles to find her feet in this unfamiliar place.

** Far From Home **

_I feel like I might fade into the dawn_

 

“We need to get _what_ for the Joining?” Jory face was a picture of shock and horror. It was almost funny enough to provoke a laugh from Caden, if her mouth hadn't been full at the time. She was sat beside Alistair with Daveth and Jory opposite them at the end of one of the tables in the Wardens mess tent and on her plate was the largest pile of food she had ever seen. When Alistair had directed them to the cook, she had taken a few minutes for it to sink in that she could actually have multiple slices of pork, carved from the roasting pig, with fresh buttered bread _and_ potatoes, and an apple and an orange from Antiva. It was all for her. She couldn't quite believe it and was eating everything one handed, while her other arm seemingly casually hugged the plate on the table. She was prepared to use her fork to stab anyone who came too close to her food.

Alistair set his drink back down. "Darkspawn blood." He repeated. "It's a vital component for the Joining." Jory did not look placated.

"But... what is it used for?" He wanted to know. His food lay untouched on his own plate. Caden swallowed and replaced her mouthful with a bite of perfectly moist, smoked pork and almost swooned. She chased it with a bite of her apple while Jory waited for his answer. Alistair considered it for a moment, mulling his words over in his head.

"That's Duncans remit, really." He said after a moment. "He'll go into it later. All you need to know for now, is that this is a test of your mettle. It'll be the first time you're facing down the darkspawn. If you can't handle this part, maybe you want to reassess whether the Wardens is for you."

Caden didn't let go of her plate as she snorted. "Oh, so if I take one look at a darkspawn thing and piss my pants, I get to go home?" Alistair looked torn between consternation and amusement.

"Well, we might let you change your breeches first," he joked, but Caden didn't laugh.

"I guess Duncan didn't tell you, but I was conscripted from a death sentence." She said coolly. "I didn't really have a choice about joining up or not and I doubt I'll get to decide for myself if I want to do this. Or not." She tore into her bread, the slightly salted butter melting on her tongue and calming her ire. Alistair nodded slowly, understanding.

"Ah, I see." he said.

Jory seemed to have forgotten his earlier questions as he openly stared at Caden. Daveth failed to hide a smirk as he looked back and forth between them, seemingly now pleased that he was already privy to this information.

"I was led to believe that joining the Grey Wardens was a great honour," the red headed man spluttered. "I had no idea I would be rubbing shoulders with convicts."

Caden rolled her eyes and tossed back the rest of her drink. "Trust me, you won't be getting anywhere near my shoulders." She muttered.

"It _is_ an honour," Alistair insisted. "The Grey Wardens have a long and noble history. We've quelled four Blights thus far and we're preparing to stop a fifth. However, the fact remains that what we do is so vital and so specific that we never turn our noses up at anyone who wishes to apply or," he nodded to Caden, "those who might need a fresh start within our Order."

Caden scoffed, starting to peel her orange and pointedly ignoring him. This exotic fruit was a rare treat back home, only sometimes gracing the table during the Satinalia feast, and even that feast was nothing compared to this meal. Caden dropped the peel on her plate, empty bar her fork and the apple core.

Daveth grinned and leaned back in his chair, dropping one arm across the back and crossing one leg over his other knee, the picture of relaxation. "I was picked up stealing horses." he said gleefully. "Duncan gave me the choice of joining or getting arrested. You can guess which I chose."

Jory gritted his teeth. "So, I am to understand that I am surrounded by criminals?" He glared across the table at Alistair. "And what have you done? Jewel thief? Lyrium smuggler? Laid with a Teryns daughter?"

Caden was watching Alistair and so caught his immediate flush when Jory brought up carnal activities so accusatorily. She remembered Duncans story about the last person he had recruited before her, how he'd almost had to use the Right of Conscription on the trainee Templar. "No, you were a Chantry boy." she said, keeping her intel to herself. She popped a segment of orange in her mouth as Alistair turned to her bewildered. "You can tell by the way he's blushing. Look, his ears are all red."

If anything, Alistair reddened further at this attention. Caden felt a thrill of vindication for feeling stupid earlier when he'd trailed her back to Duncan without telling her why. She could be sneaky, too. Buoyed by Alistairs sudden muteness, she looked back at Jory, not ready to play nicely just yet. "What about you? Did you write letters to Duncan, begging to join this fancy group of religious folk and lawbreakers?"

Jory bristled, but drew himself up high in his seat. "Not exactly. I won a grand tourney back home and impressed the Warden who had come to observe us knights. I was the most decorated participant this year, breaking a record that had been held for almost nine years." He looked so proud of himself that it made Cadens teeth itch.

"Sounds like you had a lot going for you back there." Caden observed. "I'm not sure I buy it; no-one joins something like this, during a war, sorry a Blight, unless they're running from something."

"That's not true," Alistair began, but Jory spoke over him.

"Perhaps _you_ were running, girl," he snapped. " _I_ am doing my duty by King and Country."

"Yeah, if this is a Blight, then there's nothing to be gained from waiting it out at home." Daveth said, suddenly serious. "Someone's got to stand up to the darkspawn." Caden frowned at him. That was unexpected; she hadn’t planned for back up from the horse thief, but she had thought they were on the same page. She recalled how excited Daveth had been when he had learned that Duncan was a Warden. She supposed he was part of the Grey Warden appreciation group after all.

"And when this is all over, I shall return home, back to Highever." That name leapt out at her, causing an unpleasant jolt of guilt in her stomach as she thought of Nelaros. The sight of him expiring in a pool of blood flashed before her eyes and she blinked it away. Not now.

 Jory was still harping on. "Back to my lands, back to my wife and my child who will have been born while I am here, fighting for their future." Jory finished, looking so righteous and important that it made Caden feel sick to look at him. She shoved away her plate. "And what about you? What about your husband? Is he proud of you?" There was an edge to his questions that took the shine off his seemingly polite phrasing.

Caden clapped her right hand over her left, hiding the band of gold too late. "That's none of your business," she hissed through her teeth. She stood up from the table, grabbing her wooden plate and cup. Her blood was itching to fight, infused by adrenaline all at once. "Sounds like you've just told me what you're running from. A real man would stay home and care for his pregnant wife and incoming babe. A real man wouldn't travel the length of the country to hide from his responsibilities."

"How dare--?"

But Caden was determined to have the last word. She turned away before he could finish and headed to the cooks station, where behind him sat a heavy wide barrel filled with soapy water. She dumped her things into it without seeing.

"Thank you, my lady." She looked up, startled that anyone was there to see a young elf washing the dishes with a rag and setting them out to dry. Caden swallowed around the large lump that had formed in her throat. The elf smiled warmly at her, but Caden couldn't speak. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, all the rich food she'd shovelled in would make a violent reappearance. She just jerked her head at the elf and then took her sense of shame away with her, towards the sleeping tents. She pushed through the canvas into the interior of the much smaller women’s tent, wishing there were solid walls to hide the eruption of noise that was desperate to come out. She stomped over to a bunk and grabbed a pillow, pressing it to her face and screaming long and loud, into the feathery lump, hoping it would dampen the noise enough that no-one would come running. Then she slumped over onto the bunk, holding the pillow like a child would hold a doll, curling her body around it. She had no idea if this bunk belonged to anyone, but she would be damned if anyone were going to move her. She needed a moment to process everything.

She thought it would have sunk in during the long days of travel from the capitol to the camp, but if anything she felt more lost here. More afraid of just how big the world was that she had never seen before. Caden had already decided she didn't like her fellow Wardens, at least not any that she had yet met. She didn't like being plucked from her home, even if it were a home she had spoiled. She didn't like being in this desolate place; no matter how bright the banners were, it was grey and crumbling. She hated it. The smell was damp and pungent, so different to the smells of the city. She didn't like the men she had to work with. And she didn't like knowing that she was part of an order that employed elves as servants. She felt very out of place; all she'd seen were human Wardens. Where were the elves? Where were the other women? They had a women’s tent with four bunks, but did that mean anything or was it just erected on the off chance a woman would wander up and volunteer to join?

As if she had summoned her, the tent flap pushed aside, casting a glow over Caden, with the sun set pouring into the tent. Caden squinted and pushed herself up, not prepared to look so childish to a stranger.

"Oh my goodness, you're _her_!" The voice was perky and eager and Caden hated it at once. The figure dropped the tent flap, banishing the fierce final rays of sun and then went over to the lamp hanging from the highest point in the middle of the rectangular tent. With a fumble, the lamp was lit, swaying slightly as it was released, making the shadows dance lazily. Now Caden could clearly see the figure who'd intruded on her solitude.

A human woman stood in the tent. She had curly brown hair that was tied back into a low ponytail, and inquisitive blue eyes. Caden remained where she sat, her legs curled underneath her, placing the pillow back on the bunk. "Er... is this your...?"

The woman shook her head quickly. "Oh no, I've been using this bunk." She sat herself down opposite Caden as if to demonstrate that this was indeed her bunk, and pulled off her boots. The woman was dressed in Warden colours, but a casual variation of the armour. No straps or plates here, just a long robe of blue and silver with a griffon on the left breast.

"Are you a mage?" Caden asked, surprisingly herself with the question.

"No, I'm not," the woman replied. "My name is Lyra. I'm the Warden Archivist for Ferelden." She held up a stack of parchment and a quill. It didn't help; Caden had no idea what that meant. "I record the account of what we're doing. I keep the records." Seeing Cadens confusion, she held the parchment out for Caden to take. After a moment Caden did as expected. "See? That's my account of what occurred today." Caden glanced over the words, the smart cursive writing looked very fancy, but wasn't easy to read after the basic print of the books she owned. Caden nodded blankly. "Then I send the writings off to Weisshaupt for the Senior Archivist to record in the books there." Lyra smiled toothily. "Today I wrote about you. Well and the other recruits. You've all finally arrived and the Warden-Commander is back, so it's a big day. Of course, tomorrow is a bigger day really, for you I mean. That's when you're Joining is scheduled for. Are you excited?"

Caden kept her eyes down on the parchment, hoping Lyra would get distracted by something and forget what she'd asked Caden. She seemed like a very over exuberant person, not unlike Alistair. What were they feeding these Wardens and would Caden start to demonstrate this kind of annoying behaviour? Her mind flashed back to the plate sinking beneath the water and the elf thanking her. No, she would never be like the other Wardens.

Lyra, to her credit, seemed to realise she was coming on too strong so she stood, leaving the parchment with Caden. Caden sensed her movement and realised she was shrugging out of her robe, into her undergarments and she flushed, turning her head so she couldn’t even see Lyra out of the corner of her eye. She thought of how she'd teased Alistair before about his reaction to being asked about sex and wanted to kick herself. How was she any different; a full-grown woman blushing at partial nudity nearby that had nothing to do with her. After her mother died, Shianni became the only person who ever saw Caden in anything but her outer garments. What was this stranger doing, disrobing in front of her? Didn't she have any shame?

Lyra placed her things in a trunk at the end of her raised bedroll and sat back down with a book in her hands, but she didn't look at the book. Caden risked raising her head and caught the woman gazing at her with sympathy in her eyes. "I know it can seem overwhelming at first. Joining the Wardens can be intimidating, I do understand. When I joined up it was five years ago and I sought them out. Duncan's told me about your conscription; I know it wasn't your choice to join. That must be tough." She left the conversation open, but Caden did not oblige by joining in. Lyra tried a different track. "I bet you miss your home, but you get used to it. The Wardens... we're more like a family than a regiment. Oh, sure, we fight side by side in battle, but it's more than that. We're brothers and sisters. Well, actually I was the only sister for a while, at least in Ferelden. There are loads of warden-sisters in Orlais and at Weisshaupt. My predecessor, she was promoted, which is why she left to go to Weisshaupt. That was a year ago, so that's how long I've been keeping records."

Cadens held out the parchment to Lyra, hoping she would take it. She did, so Caden pulled back onto the bunk, drawing her knees up under her chin. She didn't want to talk to this chatty woman, but the question slipped out anyway. "Don't you fight?"

"Me?" Lyra asked. Caden resisted a monumental eye roll. Who else would she be talking about? "Oh yes, I do. We all do. I'm an archer, specifically. I don't tend to get into the fray much, but I can pick off the darkspawn before they get too close. I rarely miss."

Caden looked up. There was a note of steely pride in Lyras voice that warmed her to the human. "Archery?" she asked. Lyra nodded. "That's impressive."

"Duncan says you're completely untrained in warfare, but you can fight." Lyra said and Caden couldn't find anything condescending in her tone. She nodded. "That's good. You have the basics and we can teach you the rest. What do you favour?"

Caden was sure Duncan would have told her, given that this woman was responsible for collating all the facts about the Wardens, but she took the bait. "Knives or daggers." She answered, pushing away thoughts of her Mothers lonely knife back at Denerim. "I prefer to have a blade in each hand."

Lyra nodded approvingly. "Smart. Twice the offence and they work for defence if you need it. Good thinking."

Caden felt an odd feeling bloom in her chest at these words and it took her a moment or two to identify it as pride. She dropped her knees, sitting cross legged. "My mother taught me everything she knew. That was everything she knew."

"I can teach you some archery if you like?" Lyra said, suddenly serious. "Once you're done tomorrow and you're officially one of us I can give you lessons."

Caden bit her lip. She was tempted. It sounded like a great opportunity to learn a new skill, but the idea of being 'one of them', a warden-sister made her balk. She didn't _want_ to be one of them. She wanted to be back home. The two sides of her fought it out, the eagerness to learn to shoot arrows vs the desperate need to set herself apart from them. "Maybe." She said finally. Then, without another word, she lay down and rolled over, with her back to Lyra, pulling the rough blanket over her body. Lyra seemed to take this in her stride, but Caden didn't care. She heard Lyra say goodnight and then a rustle as she settled down to read for a bit. Caden could hear the noises of camp outside: voices, laughter, some shouts. Her head was buzzing; she felt certain she'd never shut out the sounds both inside and outside of her head. Her father and Shianni swam into view. She felt an ache in her heart for them both. Caden clenched her left fist, feeling the wedding ring press into her hand. Nelaros. She allowed guilt into her homesick heart and then in spite of everything that was going on, she didn't drift so much as dive into sleep.

 

*

 

The next morning Caden woke to the sound of Lyra getting ready. She'd had a bad night, waking regularly with a start at various noises permeating the canvas walls. At one point she'd had a nightmare about Vaughan, surfacing from the dream like a diver coming up for air, unable to catch her breath. That breathlessness had shaken her and she sat up, trying to remember how to properly inhale and exhale. Caden had almost fainted when she felt a hand on her back, until she realised it was only Lyra, roused by Cadens panic. She'd been too out of breath to speak, so had had to endure Lyras gentle back rub until she was back in control and was able to ask her to stop. Lyra hadn't spoken a word about it and had just gone back to sleep, but Caden hoped she wasn't about to try to start a conversation about it now. Or write it down in her damn notes.

Lyra smiled cheerily when she realised Caden was awake. "Better get ready or we'll miss breakfast. I'm starving!"

Caden watched her warily, but she didn't seem to be trying to talk to her. The last thing Caden wanted to do was remember the oppressive feeling of weight on her chest from the nightmare, how in the dream she'd been frozen beneath him as he grew heavier and smothered her completely. She shuddered and got up from the bed. She'd slept in her travelling clothes, which seemed rather grim now in the cold light of day. She hadn't even taken her boots off and so the bottom of her bunk was rather dirty. She grimaced; she couldn't change that now, but she did need to change her clothes. She supposed a wash would be too much to ask for as she grabbed her back that had been left at the end of the bunk and reached inside for any other clothes Duncan might have packed. All she could find was the wedding dress, stiff with blood.

Lyra spotted her dithering. "Do you need something to wear? I have spares; I'm sure they'll be a bit big, but we can figure something out."

Caden flinched and dropped her bag. "No, that's OK." She turned, eyeing the human as if daring her to force the issue. Who cared if she smelled, she wasn't here to impress anyone and maybe she'd get a wide berth from the others. Lyra just smiled.

"Fair enough. The offer stands if you change your mind." Caden wasn't sure how old Lyra was, but she seemed to have an unerring instinct of how to deal with a young, tetchy recruit. She would have guessed her to be in her late twenties, perhaps even thirty. "You'll be measured for armour today anyway. Ready?"

Caden nodded stiffly, following Lyra out of the tent and to the mess tent again. Caden tried to keep her eyes on Lyras back, but she couldn't hold back the glances towards the pot wash. It was unmanned in that moment and she was glad.

Alistair waved as she drew closer and Lyra left to go sit with other wardens. Caden eased herself onto a chair, casting her gaze across the table to the two empty seats. "Where are...?" She managed before trailing off. She didn't feel combative this morning. That dream had shaken her too much. She just felt weak.

"Daveth and Jory?" Alistair finished for her. She nodded. "They've already eaten. I believe Daveth is being fitted for armour and Jory is bathing. You can do both when you've had something to eat." He pushed a plate over to her, the smell of the spiced bread making her mouth water. "Sleep well? It must be a lot easier to get a decent kip in the women’s tent with just the two of you."

Caden tugged the pro-offered plate a little closer and reached for the bread. It had currents baked into it and was still warm and the smell was divine. She spotted another plate beside Alistair that was empty. Had he waited for her with her food? She ripped a piece off and popped it in her mouth. Alistair picked up a jug and poured some milk into a cup. "Here, they go well together. Personally, I like to dip the bread in the milk, but I am told I am disgusting by some less enlightened folk around here." He smiled again, a warm, bright smile as if they were friends.

The bread seemed suddenly tough to swallow, so she took a long drink of the milk. It was different to what she was used to. "This tastes a little strange."

"Hmm?" Alistair pulled the jug over and sniffed. "Doesn't smell off. How is it different?"

Caden didn't really know, so she shrugged. Alistair poured himself a small cupful and drank it down. "Tastes normal. Maybe your palate is more refined than mine." He joked. "Someone told me the other day that the cows get stressed being corralled near a battlefield, as if they know what's coming. Maybe that's what you're tasting. Or more likely I was being gullible, I do that sometimes. Well… many times."

"Cows?"

"Yeah, you know, smaller than horses, bigger than dogs, but you can't ride them or you get told off as a young boy, even though you had it on good authority that it was fine to ride the cows." Alistair frowned, thoughtfully. "The start of my illustrious career of believing the most ridiculous things."

Caden looked down at her cup, seeing the milk a little differently now and ignoring Alistairs waffling. "We only have goats’ milk back home."

"Ah, mystery solved!" Alistair beamed. "What have you got against cows though?"

Caden frowned. She didn't particularly feel strongly about cows and she puzzled for a moment until she understood what he meant. "Goats are more comfortable in the city." She said. "They're smaller. Don't need as much land. We keep them right there in the Alienage." The words tumbled out without thinking, giving much more information that she had intended. All that over a cup of milk. Alistair seemed pleased though and grinned as she started to eat again.

"Do you realise we've just managed a perfectly pleasant conversation?" Caden glanced down at her food. She hadn't meant to. He was still going on: "I guess all you needed was some decent sleep."

Caden looked up into his bright face as the nightmare image of Vaughan flashed before her eyes. What in Andrastes name was he talking about? Caden grabbed the rest of her loaf and stood up, turning away from the table. She caught Alistairs face as his easy-going expression slid into a frown before she started walking away. She heard him call her name behind her. "Leave me alone, Alistair."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full name of the song is Far From Home (The Raven) and it's by Sam Tinnesz. It took me forever to name this chapter; some are much easier than others! I had planned to make Caden the only woman in the Wardens at this point to increase her otherness, but that was changed after talking to my partner in writing crime, and I'm glad for that! Lyra is a little bit like a female Alistair in terms of bright and cheeriness, but really if Caden were in a better headspace, she might consider Lyra to be like an older Shianni.


	7. Be Where You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the Wilds to hunt for blood...

** Be Where You Are **

_Don't look for life in past or future, look right at it dead in the eye_

****

Caden stared daggers at the quartermaster. She said nothing, bit her tongue, but she stared at the man as if she had the power to melt the flesh off his bones. Alistair coughed awkwardly. "You seem to have made a mistake there," he said warily. "Caden is a Warden-Recruit and so needs a set of armour."

The quartermaster frowned, bushy eyebrows almost meeting in the middle. "I could have sworn she was the Teryns servant. Are you sure?" Caden noted that he wasn't asking her. Her rage ticked up a notch, but still she kept it quiet, swallowing the heat of her ire. She wanted armour that fit well and wasn't full of holes and speaking her mind at that moment, she felt, would only lead to getting the armour from the rubbish pile. Alistair shifted from one foot to the other, clearly desperately uncomfortable.

"I'm quite sure." he said finally. "If you would please just fit her for some armour so we can head out...?"

The quartermaster huffed. "Who am I to question the decisions of the Wardens, eh?" And he went inside his tent to rifle through his available armour.

Caden waited until he returned with some scale mail before saying: "Leather would suit me better."

Those bushy eyebrows shot up to meet his hairline, which was something as it was rather receding. He glanced at her in her tunic and breeches and nodded. "Fair enough. Mail might topple you over, I guess. Such a tiny thing. Maybe there's something in the back." And muttering he disappeared from sight again. Alistair threw a nervous smile Cadens way, but she wasn't in the mood to return it. She remained stony faced as the quartermaster returned with a set of small leather greaves and bracers for her legs and arms, and what looked like a tabbard made out of strips of leather woven into a lattice. "This can all go over your current clothes. Try it on and see how you move."

Caden smiled poisonously, an expression of utter disdain dressed up to appear polite and looked over the items. The quartermaster moved off to speak to a squire who had come to collect his master’s sword, and left the Junior Warden and the Warden-Recruit alone. Alistair watched without speaking as Caden checked over each piece, stealing glances at Alistairs own armour as she did as she figured it out. First, she settled the greaves over her legs, fastening two buckles at the side over her boots. The greaves extended above her knees a little, but were secured to her shins, so she had the freedom to move unimpeded. So far, so good. Next, she set aside the bracers for last and found the buckles of the tabbards. The item fit over her head in one piece, then fastened at both sides, tying the front and the back together around her body. It was bulky and shapeless, but it would protect her from the front and back. Her neck was open as were parts at her side, so she knew she would have to remember that if there was fighting, which sounded unavoidable. She recalled how she had found similar exposed points in the metal armour of the guards in Vaughans estate. Wouldn't that be ironic, to be taken down in the same way out here? _No_ , she resolved. She wouldn't give them the chance. Finally, she fitted the bracers over her forearms. Her upper arms were now also open to attack, but she didn't intend to let herself be injured. Once again, remembering her fights at the manor in Denerim; she was smaller and weaker, so she had to be faster. Had to be.

She looked up at Alistair, not wanting approval per se, but then again, he _was_ a more seasoned warrior, so she waited to see what he would say. He nodded at her armour. "Looks fine. You'll get better armour, properly fitted after the Joining, so just live long enough and you can get an upgrade." He smiled wryly to show he was joking. Then he reached over to her tabbard and took hold of one of the buckles. "This could be a little tighter--" he started, but Caden had flinched violently away as his hand brushed her. Alistairs ears went red and he held up both hands. "Sorry, sorry! I was just trying to help."

It was Cadens turn to flush pink under her armour. She had to get that under control, she knew that, but then again, he really needed to learn to tell her what he was doing. She told him as much. "You can't just grab people." She said, trying to remain calm. "Just... say what you're doing, before you do it, alright?"

Alistair nodded. "My apologies," he said sincerely. "I would suggest that could be a little tighter, if you want some help with that?"

Caden nodded, mutely and turned, raising her arm so Alistair could adjust the straps. She felt very hot having his hands so close, could feel the sweat breaking out under her already worn clothes. She really needed to bathe after their sojourn to the Wilds, and to change into a fresh set of clothing, if there were any to spare. Of course, she could always die out on the first mission and then the need for cleanliness and clothes would be null and void.

Once that was sorted, the quartermaster returned and upon request found her two belts to wear in a criss-cross fashion around her torso, so that she could have two short swords in scabbards either side of her. She wanted to ask about a knife so that her boots felt less empty, but she also wanted to be away from this man as soon as possible and although she spotted a knife sitting on a table unguarded, Alistair was hovering so she had to fight the urge to pilfer it.

Together Alistair and Caden walked away from the quartermaster to meet up with the others by the gates.

"I'm sorry about him," Alistair said after a few moments. "Some humans can be idiots about elves."

Caden sighed, but didn't speak. It was hardly anything new. Alistair went on: "You seemed remarkably calm with him. Even when he spoke to you like you were a servant."

"I'm planning to kill him later." Caden deadpanned. "I'll go back under cover of darkness and murder him in his sleep. It's just easier that way." She caught Alistairs face. "I'm joking. Mostly." She rolled her shoulders, feeling the armour shift on top of her clothes. "Let's just see how this armour does. Then I'll decide if he's worth keeping around."

Duncan was waiting at the gate with Daveth and Ser Jory. Caden found her eyes roaming the armour of her fellow Warden-Recruits, eyeing up the fit and quality. Jory had brought his own and it seemed to fit him well to her untrained eye. Daveths armour came from the same place and was similar in appearance to hers, but certainly seemed to fit him better than hers did. Caden bristled underneath it all; none of the armour seemed built for her kind, whether that was because of her female body or her elven stature. It was very frustrating. She tuned out her annoyance to focus on Duncan.

“…additionally, we have sourced a location of a cache that I would like you to find. Alistair has the location so please do your utmost to retrieve the treaties hidden away there.”

“Of course, Duncan.” Alistair said solemnly. Caden resisted the urge to fidget under her armour.

“Nevertheless, your primary focus is obtaining the blood from the darkspawn.” Duncan went on. “Without it the Joining will be delayed and we want complete that this evening.”

“What do you do when there isn’t a Blight?” Caden asked bluntly. Daveth hid a smirk behind his hand. She ignored him; she wasn’t sent here for his personal amusement. “How do you get the blood if darkspawn aren’t running around the Wilds?”

Duncan looked to Alistair to answer this question. He cleared his throat first. “We go to the Deep Roads in Orzammar.” Alistair said. Caden watched him intently; he’d spoken too freely the previous night and was clearly being more cautious now, with Duncans eyes upon him. “The darkspawn live underground so the dwarves are often the first line of defence against them breaking out so Warden-Recruits join the dwarves in holding them back and in doing so we can get blood.”

“And the blood is for…?”

Duncan clapped his hands together. “It looks as though the gates are ready for you to pass through so the best of luck to you all. I will see you on your return for your Joining later.”

 

*

 

The Wilds were wet and kind of smelly. That was Cadens first impressions upon leaving the grounds of Ostagar. This was the direction the Darkspawn were coming from, apparently, and so would be the best place to obtain the blood for the three new recruits. They each had a set of vials, lest any should break and Alistair was in the lead. Duncan had explained that Alistair, as a fully-fledged Grey Warden, would be able to sense the presence of any darkspawn and so prevent the small group from being taken by surprise. The thought was niggling at Cadens mind once she heard this, that the very secret reason for needing darkspawn blood might be something rather unpleasant. It didn’t seem to bother Jory or Daveth, or at least if they were bothered by it, they weren’t letting it show, so Caden kept her dark thoughts inside.

Alistair was much less jovial once they crossed into the Wilds, a focus lighting his eyes that Caden had previously not seen. It made his face suddenly a whole lot more interesting, to her at least. Watching him take something seriously was better than his attempts to get to know her or jolly them all along like children. That wasn’t what she was there for. He led the way and had Jory behind, with Caden and Daveth either side of the knight. Daveth, Caden spotted, seemed to have the same weapons as she did, and she wondered if that was the only reason Alistair chose the arrangement that he did.

The sky was slightly overcast and the air held a chill as they traipsed over the damp ground. It seemed a far cry from the land she and Duncan had traversed in their journey from Denerim. There were tiny insects here, that seemed to delight in the taste of human flesh, with one or two taking a bite out of her elven skin and apparently deciding it wasn’t as good. That they seemed to be mostly nibbling on Jory was as much to his dismay as it was to Cadens amusement, though she hid her glee as well as she could when he grumbled about the bugs.

The group had been walking for a while, long enough to have left behind the gates to Ostagar and had yet to find any darkspawn. Alistair stopped them by a lazy river that was snaking its way between the mounds of grass and reeds. “I’m getting a sense of darkspawn over that way,” he said, gesturing away from the muddy path towards a wooded area. The trees had long bedraggled strands of moss hanging from the leaves, giving each tree a slightly stooped over appearance. Daveth swallowed audibly.

“In there?” He asked in a dry voice. “I don’t like the look of that.”

“I would prefer to stay in open ground,” Jory quickly agreed. “It looks like the perfect place for an ambush.”

“Not to mention the witches that could be lurking in there,” Daveth muttered, his eyes darting around. Caden cocked her head to one side as she looked at the pale man.

“Witches?”

He nodded. “The Wilds are rife with witches and Chasind who follow them.”

“Seriously?” Caden asked. This sounded like he was pulling her leg, but he had genuine fear in his eyes that gave her reason to question it. Daveth had turned back to eye up the way into the woods again and did not reply.

“I hear what you’re saying, Ser Jory,” Alistair started, notably not responding to Daveths woes, Caden realised. “But that is our best bet for finding the darkspawn and achieving our task.”

The two recruits shared a worried look, so Caden stepped up alongside Alistair. “In there you say? Let’s go.” And she started for the woods. Within a few seconds Alistair was beside her and then the other two scrambled to catch up behind. Alistair shot Caden a grateful look, but she kept her head forward, scanning through gaps in the trees. In truth, she was not happy to be inside this darkened woodland. The canopy was thick and the light was dim. She hated to admit it, but it did seem like the kind of place people went into and never came back out from. She understood that Alistair had this special darkspawn sense, but in practise it sounded rather far-fetched. She would need to see it in action to fully trust it. Caden stole a look to Alistair as she struggled to keep pace with him. He had that focused look back, as he peered off through the woods. Was he feeling out the darkspawn at that moment? She wondered if he had a tell, and then wondered what it would feel like for her if she made it to the Joining. While she watched, she spotted Alistair look towards a new direction, almost like she had seen watching the rats in the streets of the Alienage; a sudden awareness of a presence, an instinctive reaction to potential danger. Caden turned her head to peer in the same direction as Alistair. Nothing. She looked back at Alistair who was holding up a hand to quieten the other two recruits, and waited. When he dropped to crouch, the others all followed suit without a moments hesitation.

“That way.” Alistair said. “A small group, I think.”

Caden looked. They were on a narrow pathway, but to follow Alistairs plan they would be walking through brush and thickets. Any attempts at being quiet would be pretty much impossible. “Are you sure?” Caden asked. “We won’t be able to surprise them.” Alistair nodded at her words and she chewed thoughtfully on her lip.

“They will be able to sense me, as I am able to sense them.” Alistair said quietly. “It _is_ possible to surprise the darkspawn, especially as the presence of Grey Wardens will be faint.”

“Will they run if they hear us or stand their ground?” Caden wondered out loud.

“If they call more we could be in a very precarious position.” Jory added. Caden held back her grimace at them being on the same page, childishly irritated by his sensible suggestion. Alistair looked torn. It occurred to Caden that they were probably the first group of recruits he had taken to look for darkspawn. Presumably being in the Deep Roads meant lots of darkspawn to fight without having to hunt them down as they were doing. Looking at Alistair now with a critical eye, it was clear to see the slight tic of a muscle in his jaw. He was nervous. Caden took a deep breath. Their leader couldn't be seen to have doubts, especially with Jory worrying about ambushes and Daveth afraid of witches.

"What are you thinking, Alistair?" She asked evenly. He glanced at her and she offered a thin, but encouraging smile.

"I don't want us to get overwhelmed by darkspawn." Alistair said after a moment. "We need that blood, but reports have said that there are plenty of darkspawn groups in the wilds so let’s keep going. We need to find the cache as well, which is this direction anyway."

"Sounds like a plan." Caden nodded, waiting until he rose to mimic his action.

Alistair began to walk, continuing the path through the woods with Caden walking alongside him. He tried to catch her eye again, but she kept her head forward. She hadn't thrown him a lifeline because she wanted to be his friend; it had merely been strategy. They couldn't afford for Alistair, the guy with the darkspawn sense, to worry himself into inaction. She'd acted out of necessity. That was all.

They walked in silence through the woods, the only sound coming from their steps on the detritus on the forest floor. There were few birds scattered about, with a few calls here and there, but no real song. It made the woods feel more eerie in the gloom. After a while they came to an edge and Alistair halted them, peering through the gaps in the trees. Caden focused where he was looking and caught a flash of movement. She glanced at Alistair. The anxiety was nowhere to be seen; he was ready now. Caden felt her heart speed up. That meant fighting. Her first fighting since Vaughans house, her second time fighting for her life. Against monstrous things that were hellbent on destroying her and everyone she loved. She quietly withdrew her swords, gripping the hilts tightly. She was ready. Hopefully.

Alistair nodded to the others, gesturing for the men to fan out, spacing each member of their small party out in a line opposite the treeline. Caden watched the others pull their weapons free and ready themselves. Alistair held up his hand and then they were charging forwards, bursting out of the woodland into the light. Caden winced at the sudden bright light, so bright due to the gloom of the tree canopy, but she quickly adjusted. Before them were a small group of what had to be darkspawn, two about Cadens height, three closer to the men. They seemed shocked by the sudden appearance of non-darkspawn fighters and Caden pressed forward, pushing the advantage of surprise, sinking her blades into the arm and side of the one closest to her. It howled and his foetid breath made her gag as the sorry creature expired before it could even think to draw a blade. Caden yanked her swords free and turned, eyeing up the next enemy. This one was ready, holding a sword, facing her. Caden had to jump back as it swung, much closer than she had anticipated and she let out a hiss of pain as it left her with a shallow cut on her bicep. Damn that armour. The darkspawn let out a roar at her, and in combination of pain, shock and anger, Caden hollered right back, her voice an irritated growl in comparison to the bellow from her sparring partner. It brought down its jagged blade and Caden parried with her good arm, catching the offending sword with hers and slicing with the free sword. She caught it on the thigh and it grunted. Before Caden could stab at it again, the darkspawn let go of the sword with one hand and suddenly Cadens face exploded in pain. She reeled backwards from the punch, already feeling the blood spurting from her nose, she hurried to parry again as the beast advanced on her, swinging wildly. Caden shook the stars from her eyes and feinted left, before darting right and jamming her sword into the darkspawns already injured leg. It yelped again and she brought the other sword down to pierce the skin at the back of its neck, cutting off the scream as she severed its voice with her blade.

Caden risked a glance at the others. Jory was wiping his sword clean, the body of a large darkspawn prone and bloody before him. She looked over to where another body lay, another downed enemy, with Daveth sitting up beside it, wiping blood from his eyes. He had a gash across his head. Finally, Cadens eyes alighted on Alistair as he swung his sword and sliced clean through his foes neck, sending the monsters head flying through the air. The headless body teetered and then crumpled to the ground in a shower of blood. Alistair looked up and locked eyes with Caden.

"Is that all of them?" Caden asked, her chest heaving with the exertion.

"Yes," Alistair nodded. "Let's collect the blood while we have a moment. Daveth, are you alright?" He reached a hand down to the man who clasped it and allowed himself to be helped to his feet.

"They're faster than they look." Daveth said with a shrug and a wry grin. He looked over to Caden, who had set down her swords and was fiddling with the awkward wax stopper of her vials. "Did you take two down?"

Caden didn't look up from her job. Her hands were shaking after that fight and she couldn't get the vial unstoppered. "I guess so." She mumbled. Finally, the waxed cork loosened and she immediately dropped it. Cursing under her breath she dove for the small stopper on the ground and retrieved it.

"That's impressive." Daveth said. Caden ignored him as she knelt beside her fallen foe and considered how to get the blood out of the darkspawn and into the tiny vial. After a moments consideration she held the vial at the opening she had made with her sword in the creatures’ neck and pressed the vial to the blood that was still pouring forth. There was no way to avoid it getting on her hands, so she gritted her teeth and filled one vial after another.

"So, what exactly are these?" Daveth was asking as Caden worked. There was a nervous energy to his tone, making Caden feel glad that she wasn't the only one letting the tension get to her.

"These big fellows are hurlocks," Alistair said, then he crossed over to crouch beside the creature Caden was taking the blood from. Wordlessly she passed him a full vial. He took it and pressed the stopper over the top to close it, then waited for her to pass him the next one. "And these ones are genlocks."

After a short while Cadens vials were full and her hands were slick with blackish blood. She grimaced down at herself, but Alistair stood and offered her a hand like he had with Daveth. Without a second glance at his outstretched hand, Caden pushed herself up from the floor and got to her feet alone. Alistair didn’t say anything as he pulled his hand back.

Caden dithered for a moment, then bent and wiped her hands on her thighs; smearing the blood over her breeches. She was filthy enough and sweating after the fight. What was a little more mess? Alistairs face appeared in her peripheral view, frowning. She opened her mouth to defend her decision to clean herself up on her clothes, but then she realised that he was looking with concern at her face. “How’s your nose?” He asked.

Cadens fingers flew up to touch it, wincing at the sharp pain that elicited. “It’s fine.” She said bravely. She caught the barest hint of a smile on Alistairs face as he clearly didn’t buy the lie.

“Very well,” he said, reaching in pocket for a handkerchief. Caden took it and pressed it to the drying stream of blood surrounding her nostril.

“Thanks.” She dabbed a few times until she was satisfied the bleeding had definitely stopped and withdrew the handkerchief. There was an embroidered crest on the fabric. She was getting used to seeing them everywhere, but while she had expected to find a griffon for the Wardens, instead there was a grey tower upon a hill. She’d stained the fabric with dirt and her blood, but it looked as though the thread used for the hill was itself red. It didn’t look like the Templar heraldry. Was this something from his time before the Chantry? Caden was surprised to feel a small flicker of curiosity for Alistairs previous life. She quashed it quickly. She didn’t need to know his business, just as he had no right to hers. Caden held out the handkerchief and Alistair took it back, stuffing it into his pocket again, apparently not minding that it was just as grimy as Caden was now.

 “Do we have enough blood?” Jory asked. Caden and Alistair looked over to him and Daveth; both had managed to gather some vials, somehow managing to avoid the mess that had befallen Caden she noted grimly.  

“I’ll wager we do,” Alistair replied. “Good work.”

“But we still need to find that stuff for Duncan?” Caden offered. Alistair nodded.

“We do. Let’s press on.”

Following Alistairs directions they travelled across open marshland, battling with insects again rather than darkspawn.

They walked on, slowly trudging through the Wilds. Caden wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but it seemed as though her fellow recruits were fallen back a little. Certainly she found herself up alongside Alistairs while Ser Jory and Daveth ended up behind. She kept her gaze ahead, trying to avoid Alistair catching her eye. Her hair had mostly held fast in its tight knot atop her head, apart from a few wisps that had fallen around her face. As she walked, Caden brushed the strands back up into the knot, tucking them into the cord that held her hair in place. No doubt she was smearing black streaks along the yellow hair.  

"What's that?" Jory asked. The others stopped and Caden looked up from her task, to follow the length of his extended arm to see what he was pointing at. They were coming up to a bridge which was adorned with spikes on which were skewered human skulls. She narrowed her eyes, her skin prickling with unease. Surrounding the bridge was thick hedgerows either side of the river. There was only one way forward.

"I don't like this," Alistair murmured. "I can feel something nearby..." He turned around, seeking out the incoming threat. Daveth and Jory readied their weapons, glancing around.

Caden slowly crept on light feet towards the bridge. Then she stopped.

"I can see traps—it's an ambush." She had barely finished the sentence when genlocks suddenly appeared as if out of thin air surrounding the troupe. Before any of them had time to breathe, they attacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title comes from a song by Birdtalker. Seems apt for a chapter involving heading into the Wilds! I found this area in the game to be a bit flat, so I added trees to try to make it a bit more creepy. More places for darkspawn or witches to hide! Sorry Daveth.


	8. Morrigan

** Morrigan **

_She is death, she is life_

 

Caden barely had time to think before the first sword whistled through the air. She tried to evade it’s slice as best she could, but they’d appeared so suddenly, as if by magic, that she couldn’t get out of the way quite in time, and the point pierced her arm, drawing a line of red until it met her bracers and it was finally deflected. Caden couldn’t help the cry of pain and she continued to back up, away from the advancing genlock until she bumped against someone’s back. A lightning fast glance told her it was a friend, but there was nowhere left to go so she gritted her teeth and braced herself, crossing her twin blades before her as the genlock swung his blade downwards and caught it before it struck her. She grunted loudly as she did the first thing she could think off—she lifted one foot, planted it on the genlocks chest and kicked. It flew backwards, and Caden leapt forward, not giving an inch, ready to be the one in control of the fight having been on the backfoot at the start. As the beast landed, she stopped beside it and drove her blades into his chest. He gurgled as he expired, but Caden was already spinning around to take in the lay of the land. The three men were still surrounded but they had regained ground and she could see it was only a matter of time before they bested their opponents. She looked back to the bridge and caught sight of a larger darkspawn fiend, wielding a stave from which was pouring some foul looking smoke, and which was heading for Cadens companions. Her hackles instantly raised at the sight, so set off at a run, vaulting lightly over the first trap and landing beside the darkspawn. He noticed her and broke the first spell only to turn on her and began casting something new. She elbowed him in the mouth, thus cutting off his recitation, and then swung her blade. He instinctively held up his stave as a shield; her first blade bit into the wood and stuck fast, but she drove the other into his gut and twisted, ending his life in a strangled gasp. He clutched at her as he fell, his clawlike fingers grasping at the neck of her armour. Caden yanked her blade free and shoved him down, not interested in giving him any peace in death.

Caden felt rather than saw the three men run past her scaling the bridge. "Wait, there are traps!" she shouted trying to stop them. Alistair skidded to a halt at once, Daveth saw what she saw and leapt over the trap, but Jorys foot landed squarely on a pressure pad causing the trap to snap shut on his calf. He yelled in agony and dropped his sword, bringing more darkspawn running.

Alistair turned to Caden. "Get him free." He ordered as he and Daveth started to engage in battle. Caden didn't think to argue; she dropped to her knees beside Jory who was still screeching in pain. She laid down her weapons and clutched his leg above where the metal teeth were buried in his flesh.

"Try to hold still," she grunted as he reacted to the pain. His leg was quickly covered in blood and although she tried, Caden could not see his wound. Instead she dipped down lower to inspect the traps spring mechanisms. It was a crudely made thing with the basic concept of a pressure plate releasing the jaws to clamp into a leg, which it had done in this case. It was clamped very tightly onto Jorys calf, but there was a small sliver of space either side of his leg. Acting instinctively, she grabbed Jorys greatsword and slid it into the space, before twisting the weapon in order to prise the teeth apart. She struggled to shut out the noises Jory was making; moans and cries, with the odd word interspersed as he begged her to help him and get him out of his agony. The effort of forcing the teeth out of his leg made her break out into a fresh sweat and her arms shook, but inch by inch it was coming apart. She finally got the sword twisted so that the jaws were separated by the width of the blade, but it was not enough to free Jorys leg. Caden risked a glance to Daveth and Alistair.

"Alistair!" She called out as he felled the last genlock. He hurried over with Daveth in hot pursuit. "I need one of you to mirror what I have done on the other side. Once there is enough space, the other must pull Ser Jory free." Jory gave a long moan as Daveth followed her orders, sliding his own blade into the now wider gap on the other side of Jorys leg. He was faster than Caden and as he forced a greater gap, she was able to move her blade further down to create a gap wide enough that all of the teeth were out of Jorys leg. "Now!" she cried.

Alistair grabbed Jory under his armpits and hauled him upwards and away. They both toppled over onto their backs—Alistair somewhat cushioning Jory who gave a loud howl as he fell. Caden and Daveth both pulled their blades away from the trap, that sprung closed again with a violent snap and then lay still.

Caden quickly moved over to where Alistair and Jory lay prone, and touched Jorys leg. "We need to get your armour off here." She instructed. Jory rolled off Alistair who wriggled out from underneath, while Daveth stood watch over them all, his eyes scouring the distance. Caden quickly began to work loose the buckles on Jorys greaves, but they were slick with blood and her shaking fingers were prone to slipping. It took a good few minutes before she could slide the damaged metal off his leg. After few moments of cursing under her breath, Daveth was beside her with a knife in hand; he cut away the leather and then the padded cotton between Jorys flesh and his armour. He cut it away just below the knee and tore it off, discarding it to one side. His skin was bright red where the teeth had punctured him and was bleeding heavily. The teeth of the trap had all been different sizes of small spikes, clearly hastily manufactured and so some wounds were less dire than others. Alistair handed Caden a wad of cotton which she pressed to the bite marks to staunch the blood flow, lifting his leg as she did so.

"I have bandages here in my pack." Alistair said, passing Caden the aforementioned items. She took them without a word, so focussed was she on the task at hand. When the blood slowed Alistair passed her some wet cloth that he had dampened with his water skin. Caden bathed the wounds quickly, and then wrapped bandages tightly around the leg. Finally, the poultice was complete. Jory had even ceased his crying, but his face looked pale and sickly.

Caden stood up and retrieved her swords from Daveth who had collected them for her.

Alistair stood also. "Can you stand?" he asked Jory.

"I will try." Jory replied, taking Alistairs outstretched hand and pulling himself up. He cried out again when he tried to put weight on the leg and the bandages became dotted with blood after a few attempts. Caden sighed.  "You can’t carry on with that leg." She said bluntly. "You can't stand without support, let alone walk and so you’ll only slow us down."

Ser Jory looked as though he wanted to argue, but could not find the words. He looked down at the ground.

"Well, we have enough darkspawn blood," Alistair said ruefully. "I suppose we can return to camp and someone else can retrieve the treaties."

Disappointment rushed through Caden. She was to fail one of the first tasks set to her as a potential Grey Warden? What in Andrastes Grace was the point of her being dragged away from the only life she had ever known, only to fall at the first hurdle in her new life? It was not her fault that Ser Jory was injured.  _She_  had seen the traps and  _she_  had shouted a warning—a warning he had not heeded quickly enough. Not her fault.

"No," she said firmly. Three pairs of eyes stared at her in confusion. "Daveth, you can take Ser Jory back to camp. It is a simple path due south east, and explain to Duncan what has occurred. Here," she handed him her containers of blood. "Take these vials back with you. Alistair and I will carry on as I am too short to support Ser Jory back and Alistair can sense the darkspawn. Between the two of us we can avoid any more confrontations and find the treaties we were tasked to retrieve."

All three men looked at her, the elf standing up and taking charge. Caden kept her face firm, though she realised how it must appear. She was a Warden-recruit after all, no different from Daveth or Ser Jory, and yet she was the one telling them all what to do. Would they heed her words, that was the question.

The cry of an animal split the air, causing Daveth to look around the wilds with wide eyes, his mouth drawn into a grimace. Looking back to Caden, he nodded and reached for the vials, slipping them into a pouch on his belt, where they joined his own collection of blood, clinking gently as they settled in.  

Alistair sighed heavily. “Caden’s right.” He said, though it didn’t appear to bring him any joy to say so. “Our Commander wants those treaties found, which means they are important. We need to at least try and we can always avoid the darkspawn.”

“Exactly.” Caden wasn’t quite sure why Alistair felt the need to repeat her plan back to her, but if it made him happy then so be it.

Daveth held out his hand to Jory, who allowed him to sling his arm across the smaller mans shoulder. With Daveths support, the two were able to limp slowly back towards the fortress. Caden watched them go, a mix of feelings fighting for control. She felt around for any sense of jealousy watching them head back to the relative safety of Ostagar, but she found none. In its place was determination. She had a job to do. _They_ had a job. Caden turned to Alistair. “Shall we?”

Alistair nodded, his jaw tense and she fell into step beside him as he led them onwards. For a long while they didn’t speak, other than for Alistair to direct them or to lead them around possible darkspawn. It felt very strange to have gone from actively seeking out the enemy to now avoiding detection as much as possible.

Eventually the marshland gave way to more solid ground and more woodland sprung up around them. "The location of the cache should be through here."

Caden nodded and headed through the trees. Alistair caught up beside her. "You don't usually talk much, do you?" He asked mildly. She glanced at him, saying nothing. Alistair snorted. "Yeah, that was rather an obvious point. Yet giving orders seemed to come naturally to you."

"I talk… when necessary." Caden clarified, even as a voice in her head pointed out that she was happy to talk to Alistair and the others if she saw an opportunity to be unkind. Alistair seemed to be waiting to see if any more words would be forthcoming. Caden sighed. "Have you considered the possibility that I just don't have anything to say to you? I don’t see much appeal for making small talk when we have a job to do."

"I suppose." Alistair replied, not sounding particularly offended. "I wonder, though, if all the effort you put into being antagonistic might be better spent being at least neutral, if not out and out friendly. If you become a Grey Warden you'll be our sister. Wouldn't it be better to start on good terms?"

"I'm an only child," Caden bit back as they began to crest a hill. "I'm no-one’s sister and I don't intend to change that."

Alistair followed up the hill, his long strides meaning that he easily caught up to her. "We're not _that_ bad, are we? Or is it just me? You just can't stand me?"

"I don't know you." Caden said, looking straight ahead, an edge of exasperation slipping over her words. "I don't have an opinion about you."

"You could get to know me--"

"I don't want to." Caden interrupted, stopping at the top of the hill in the shadow of a ruined fort that was in even worse condition than Ostagar and turning to Alistair. "Why can't you accept that? I don't _want_ to know you." For a moment a shadow crossed Alistairs face and a nip of guilt twisted her gut. Caden groaned. "Look, you're a fine leader.” She offered after a moment. It didn’t seem like much. “You're getting this job done; we have the blood and we're going to find that cache."

Alistair looked away, his expression downcast. It struck Caden that for all of his smiles and little jokes, this was serious business and he was probably going to be judged on this by his superiors. By Duncan. How might that be weighing on him, she wondered.

"Ser Jory got injured." Alistair said softly.

Now it was Cadens turn to snort. She stood and crossed her arms over her chest, derision all over her face. "If he'd stopped when I told him to, he wouldn't have hurt himself. You managed to stop when I shouted. Ah, there you are," she offered magnanimously. "I do have an opinion of you: I think you're better than Jory." Alistair looked up and met her eye. "Of course, I think Jory is an idiot, so this is very minor praise at best."

Alistair laughed, suddenly filling the space with a sound of joy that caused a nearby crow to start and take sudden flight. "I'll take it." He said. "You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it really brings people together."

Caden felt the corners of her mouth twitch. She turned away, hiding her smile and they began to walk towards the set of ruins before them. Alistair was a strange human indeed, but perhaps he made better company than the others.

"The cache should be here somewhere." Alistair said as they crossed the space to meet the ruins.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Caden asked. "What's so important about these treaties?"

Alistair hesitated and Caden hiked one eyebrow as she looked over her shoulder at him. "Don't get close lipped now." She chided. "You've been dropping hints all over the place about this mysterious Joining and the blood. You might as well tell me what we're here to find."

Alistair flushed. "Picked up on that, did you?"

"That neither you nor Duncan seem to want to talk about why we need blood to join the Wardens?" Caden retorted. "Subtly isn't your strongest suit."

"No, it isn't." Alistair conceded, though he didn't elaborate on her question. 

"So, treaties?" Caden prompted.

"They give the Wardens the right to conscript armies to aid in the fighting of a Blight." Alistair finally explained and a minute of silence.

Caden frowned. "Duncan already has those conscription rights." She said. "That's how he got me released into his custody."

Alistair nodded. "Yes, but the Rite of Conscription only works for individuals to join the Order of the Grey Wardens. On the other hand, these treaties were signed centuries back to give the Wardens the power to call on whole armies to fight alongside the Grey Wardens. Blights are serious business, but to non-Grey Wardens it can be hard to spot them and sometimes for whatever reason, the encroaching Blight can be denied by those who ought to be sending fighters to aid the Wardens.”

Caden nodded, but she didn't fully understand the need for these treaties. They had an army; the king had assembled more men and women than she'd ever seen in one place, all bearing arms or wielding magic for the cause of stopping this Blight. She decided to keep this curiosity quiet lest Alistair think she was warming up to him and followed his lead as he started to search the grounds around the overgrown ruins. Where Ostagar was crumbling, these ruins were overrun with nature as it claimed the stones back. Caden reached over and brushed moss and dirt from the closest stone. What was once probably white stone was now caked in grime, and growths of vines wrapped tightly around the pillars that still stood upright. At least one pillar was toppled over completely, it's bricks sunken into the ground, where grasses had grown over the white. There was something strangely moving about this site of humanity being pulled back to the earth and reclaimed by nature.

Alistair was stepping into the ruins to search and Caden hesitated. She didn't really want to disturb the peace of this place. It was quieter here than Ostagar, more tranquil than the Wilds they had trekked through. The silence was heavy and still around them, a feeling like snow falling while the world slept. For the first time since the morning of her wedding, Caden felt able to draw a full breath. A flash of dark caught Cadens eye and she turned her head to see the dark feathers of a bird disappearing between the stones.

"Aha!" Caden snapped out of the quiet and whirled to Alistairs shout. "Found it!"

Caden headed over to where Alistair was bent over a mess of cut plants. He'd used a knife to clear away the vegetation and Caden pushed away the pang of regret at seeing how easily he'd bested the flora. More disruption in this strange slice of solitude and nature. There was an old crate under the plants, which looked bruised if not broken. Alistair lifted the lid as his companion drew closer, but before she could look inside Alistair let out a small cry of dismay. "They're gone."

"Gone?"

Alistair straightened up and gestured to the empty depths of the crate. "Damn." he muttered. Caden felt her heart sink. Failure, it seemed, was sticking to her like tree sap and she could see the same disappointment in Alistairs eyes. For once it didn't bother her that they were sharing a moment.

"It's not your fault." She heard the quiet words trip over her lips before she registered that she was even speaking. Alistair was lost in thought and appeared not to have heard her, but when Caden reached out a hand to get his attention and he happened to turn sharply, she flinched away. Whether he registered or not she didn't know, as he walked passed her away from the empty crate and the ruins. Caden hesitated a moment and then followed, casting a last gaze over the ruins in wonder.

She broke into a run to catch up, but almost ran smack into Alistair when he suddenly stopped dead. Caden peered around him. "What's wrong?"

Following Alistairs eyeline revealed a woman standing just outside the ruins, watching them. Caden stepped around Alistair and took in the sight. She was tall and slim, with striking amber eyes and dark hair piled artfully atop her head. Her skin was pale, seeming all the moreso for the dark clothes she wore. They appeared to be stitched together from multiple scraps of leather, cloth and feathers. She looked beautiful and terribly mysterious, like a character come to life from the fairytales in Cadens books.

The woman looked down at them both with a curious and haughty expression. "What have we here?" Her voice was smooth and smokey, mist curling through the trees at dusk. Caden remembered Daveths shaky words as he fretted about witches in the wilds. Was this who he had feared?

“Careful,” Alistair said in a low voice. “She looks Chasind and there might be others nearby.”

Caden wasn’t sure what Chasind meant, whether it was a human term for witches that she had never heard before, or something else, but it didn’t seem like the right moment to ask.

The woman began to approach the duo slowly, her hips rolling with every step. Caden felt her spine stiffen as she tried to stand up straighter, not wanting this woman to look down on her. Alistair shifted beside her, but said nothing yet.

"I've been watching your progress as you wound your way through these wilds like some sort of lumbering, four-headed beast." she said, smiling sardonically at them. "I was amused when you dismissed the others, casting off two of those heads," she said directing her words at Caden. "For a while I thought you might have had an ulterior motive; attempting some alone time with this one." The term 'alone time' was laden with far too much meaning for a seemingly innocuous phrase. Caden felt heat rush her face and she automatically took a step away from Alistair, shaking her head vehemently. Alistair looked equally as uncomfortable. The woman laughed. Caden could help but note out of the corner of her eye that Alistairs hand felt for the pommel of his sword. It did not go unnoticed by the women either.

"Have I frightened you, Ser?" she asked in a laughing tone. "Or touched a nerve?"

“Who are you and what do you want?” Alistair asked sharply.

The woman gazed down at him and her eyes roved over his body from head to toe. Evidently his readying himself to draw a weapon didn’t bother her and she turned from him to Caden, effectively blocking him out. Alistair frowned at her back, which was when Caden spotted the staff strapped behind her. A mage, outside of the circle. Caden felt a rush of interest that overtook her fear; what was this woman doing out here? When the mage spoke next it was directed to Caden alone.

"So, why are you here, picking through a desiccated tower? Scavenging for long lost treasures?"

Caden opened her mouth to reply, but glanced at Alistair. He had his eyes narrowed as he was surveying the woman. She didn’t want to speak for the both of them, but Alistair didn’t appear to be in the mood to talk to her at that moment, so Caden wetted her dry lips and spoke. “We were searching for something.” She croaked out, then cleared her throat. “I, er… that is… well met, mage.” She inclined her head in a nod of greeting. “My name is Caden and that’s Alistair; we are Grey Wardens from Ostagar. The items we were seeking were in once in a chest, but the chest is now empty and so if you happen to have any idea where we might find them, we would be most grateful.”

The mage looked surprised for a moment, but then smiled. "Now that  ** _is_** civility, and glad I am to see it here deep in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan if it pleases you and I do in fact know where the items are at present."

"You!" Alistair burst out suddenly. "You stole them, didn't you? You're some sort of sneaky... _witch_ _thief_!"

"So much for being civil," Caden said rolling her eyes. "Please, Morrigan, forgive Alistair. He has received many head wounds today and it has somewhat addled his mind." Alistair opened his mouth to argue, but then shut it again and allowed Caden to take charge.

Morrigan laughed. "You are wise, man, to keep that foolish tongue from wagging when there are women talking sense." To Caden she said: "Come, both of you. I will take you to my mother who has been  ** _protecting_**  the documents from harm."

Caden quickly hurried to follow, with Alistair trudging behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from a song called Morrigan, as you can see, by Trobar de Morte. I'd found lots of suitable songs about witches, but then it struck me that as Morrigan is the name of a figure in mythology that it would probably be a simple matter to find a song that fit!


	9. Chin Up

** Chin Up **

_You think the world's unsafe_

"So, she was as mad as a bucket of frogs." Alistair said cheerfully as the gates of Ostagar loomed into view. Caden suspected he had been holding his tongue for some time in order to make sure that Morrigan was out of earshot and therefore unable to overhear his comments about her mother. Caden said nothing, but raised her eyebrows. She shifted her pack onto both shoulders and was glad to feel the weight of the treaties inside there. Success had come to her at last and she was surprisingly pleased with the result. She even found herself looking forward to returning to Duncan with the news. "Well she was." Alistair went on as they started walking. "What was all that about stockings? I didn't want to think about her stockings. Or anything else for that matter."

Caden couldn’t hold back a small smile. While it had been clear that being in the company of Morrigan, the witch of the wilds, and her mother had not been a comfortable experience for him, now that they were in sight of the walls of the camp with the treaties he had brightened considerably. Cadens own pride at succeeding in their mission was lightening her step as well. His chattering, for once, wasn’t bothering her at all.

The sun was heading over the horizon, the sky starting to blush as they headed back to camp. The walk from the ruins to Morrigans home had not been terribly far and notably devoid of darkspawn. Morrigan had just sniffed derisively when asked if they were concerned about the closeness to the horde.

Alistair looked pleased to see her slight amusement at his words. “What did you think about Morrigan?” he shuddered. “Pretty scary and strange, right? Creepy to think that she was watching us.”

“I liked her.” Caden said, with a half-hearted shrug. “She wasn’t terribly friendly, but she did help us when she didn’t have to.

“You _liked_ her?” Alistair’s voice was so scandalised that it almost brought a laugh to Caden’s lips. “What was there to like? I’m just grateful she didn’t cook us in a pot.”

“I didn’t get the impression that she ate people,” Caden gently chided. The question rolled through her mind as she considered her answer. “I don’t know what it is, but I guess I like the idea of living out here alone.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the wilds they were leaving. “It’s not the prettiest of places, but it’s quiet and secluded and there’s something rather appealing about that.”

She turned back after a moment of gazing towards the wilds to find Alistair considering her with a bemused look on his face. “What?”

“I can’t imagine why you’d want to live out here in the middle of nowhere,” Alistair replied. “I can see the allure for someone like Morrigan; an creepy apostate hiding from the Chantry, but you come from a city, don’t you? Wouldn’t you be bored?”

Caden took a few moments to mull his words over, remembering the long days inside the Alienage walls, how she would clamber as high as possible to look out over the city when she could. The market wasn’t far from the Alienage her vantage point gave her a view of colourful coverings over the stalls and the sound of people shouting out about their wares. Fun to watch as a child, but as she got older and the sensation of being trapped behind those walls under adulthood weighed on her and the lustre wore of. Finally, she began to speak with caution. “My home is in Denerim. Yes, it’s a city, but I never saw all that much of it outside of the Alienage so I couldn’t truly compare life in a city to life in the countryside. I guess I just see the appeal of living without people breathing down my neck.” She shrugged, the casual action belying the knot in her stomach as she thought about this. “Out here they are beholden to no-one but themselves. I find that quite freeing.”

That seemed to have given Alistair something to think about as they came to the gates and were allowed back inside by the guards. They made for the Warden section, the tents a far cry from the exit to the wilds thanks to their proximity to the king. As they walked, Caden spied the medical tents and without a word she diverted her course towards them, with Alistair scrambling suddenly to account for her change of direction. He didn’t ask what they were doing, just followed as quiet as a rather heavy-footed shadow could be. Caden shifted the pack again as they crept up a wide ramp towards the healers and their charges. Her gaze swept over the injured men and women, many bandaged up tightly, others lying asleep. Heading towards the tents interior they were met by the odd keening cry and sob as the healers tended to the wounded. Caden stepped inside as no-one stopped her and looked through the lamp lit canvas medical centre. The first two beds bore bodies that had sheets drawn up over their faces and Caden felt her breath hitch at the sight. She’d spent her day hunting the enemy and extinguishing their lives, but to see this vision of lost soldiers hit her much harder. She thought of Nelaros’ eyes when the life left him, how quickly they had dulled with the loss of his heartbeat. A perverse urge struck her to reach for the sheets and draw them back and her hand twitched. She clenched her hand into a fist and turned her head, heading further down the space between the two rows of bunks.

Up ahead she caught a flash of red hair and a shout of pain and she made a beeline that way, to where a healer was checking on Ser Jorys leg. The healer didn’t stop to apologise for causing his flare of discomfort, but she did hand him a vial of shining red liquid, watching as he knocked it back in one swig. She nodded and moved on to her next patient. Jorys eyes alighted on the pair walking towards him.

“How’s your leg?” Caden asked without preamble. Jory looked from her to Alistair, looking surprised to see them.

“Did you complete the task?” He asked, ignoring her and the question. Alistair nodded.

“We did. With thanks to you and Daveth for getting us as far as you did.”

Caden thought that was rather a stretch, but she supposed they had both assisted in the collection of blood at least. “How’s your leg?” She repeated evenly. Jory finally rested his gaze squarely on her.

“It’s healing.” He said bitterly. Caden bristled, suddenly cross for having sought him out at all. She’d only meant to check that he was well and had made it back in one piece. Clearly Jory was still smarting from his injury, but that wasn’t her fault and she refused to feel bad about it. She had shouted a warning.

Jory looked to Alistair again. “I shall be well enough to complete whatever task is next for us. I have already seen the Warden-Commander and discussed this with him.”

Alistair smiled and reached over to clap a hand on the mans shoulder. “Just rest for now, my friend. The Joining takes time to arrange; we can postpone until tomorrow if needs be.”

Caden frowned. That didn’t seem fair. She wasn’t exactly champing at the bit to become a fully-fledged Grey Warden, but to have it delayed by Jorys stupidity seemed rather spiteful to her and Daveth. She held back her thoughts and offered a curt nod to Jory and then turned and stalked out of the tent. Once again, her shadow hurried to catch up, which didn’t take long as even at her longest stride he easily out-paced her. 

“Good to see they got back safely,” Alistair said as they headed away from the healers’ tent. Caden made a non-committal noise. “Are you… alright?” Alistair asked hesitantly.

Caden gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to get into it. She felt annoyed and her skin itched with that feeling. Her instinct was a to snipe at him, but as they were on somewhat easier terms that she couldn’t bring herself to break. So, she kept quiet, going against the urge to take it out on him. She wasn’t even sure exactly what her problem was. She didn’t particularly want to rush to the Joining, but neither did she want to put it off. Much like any other unpleasantness, she would rather it was over and done with.

Alistair sensibly kept his mouth shut and didn’t press the issue. They made their way through the rest of camp, passing Daveth cosying up to a woman who was finishing a shift at the smithy; she had soot streaked across her face and from what Caden could see, a glistening sheen of sweat across her chest. Daveth was smiling and reached out to brush a strand of damp hair off her forehead as they passed. The smith had one hand on her hip and was smirking back at him, evidently not swooning at his suggestive words, but even so she seemed quite relaxed with him. Caden felt a strange swoop in her belly to see them together. There was something so effortless about their conversation. The only people she had ever seen at such ease with one another’s closeness were her parents, who’d been married for a very long time. Seeing two seeming strangers so relaxed with one another was odd to say the least. Daveth caught sight of the Alistair and Caden walking passed and offered a quick wave, before his attention returned to his partner.

“See?” Alistair murmured. “The Blight brings everyone closer together.”

Caden hated that she gasped at what was clearly a joke, but when she risked a glance to Alistair he looked equally as shy about Daveth flirting with the smithy in the middle of camp, as she felt, so Caden decided he was probably teasing himself as much as her. She smiled softly. “I guess so.” She said weakly.

When they finally reached the Grey Wardens tents, they were quickly pointed in the exact direction of Duncan. He was in the main tent, where the Wardens held their own battle meetings and Caden let Alistair lead the way through the canvas opening. Despite the space between them, she sensed his whole body stiffen as they went inside, and it was with great curiosity that she stepped up beside him to see what was making him react like that.

Duncan was indeed at the war table, along with the golden-haired king who Caden had met and already forgotten the name of. Beside him was the taut advisor who had judged her upon her arrival to the camp, and a final man who had never seen before. He was tall like Duncan, but broader, with harsh lines across his weathered face. His black hair was loose and hung either side of his face. He looked every inch the aged general, even before she took in his heavy plate armour. The men were hovered over a map and all looked drawn.

“It’s bad news whatever way you slice it,” the king was saying. His advisor nodded. “So where is Fergus now?”

“South.” Came the reply from the advisor. “Scouting the wilds. There is no way to reach him until he returns.”

“Damn.” The king replied. “Let me know the minute he returns. He’ll want to know the news and with the Teryn and Teryna dead we can’t expect any more soldiers from Highever. _Damn_.” The king finally looked up and saw that Caden and Alistair were in the tent.

Caden didn’t really know how to greet them properly, so she waited nervously beside Alistair. He raised his right hand and pressed his fist to his left breast plate, bowing his head towards the king. “Your highness,” he said stiffly. Caden only hesitated a moment before copying the move and stood awkwardly until Duncan smiled over at them. “Ah, you have returned. I trust you did well?”

“We did, Duncan,” Alistair replied. Caden was confused; the jovial, easy-going man she had gotten used to was gone and in his place was this stern looking soldier. It was a disconcertingly sudden switch. She swallowed and pulled off her pack. Duncan nodded and came around to collect the items, peering inside when Caden lifted the flap to show off the treaties. Neither Alistair nor Duncan spoke, but she watched them share a look that allowed something to pass between them. She decided to keep quiet; better to come across as knowledgeable, but silent than to display her ignorance to the room.

“Excellent work, both of you.” Their commander said.

“Glad to see that Ser Jory and Daveth made it back.” Alistair said. The king looked over to them, seeming to properly notice them for the first time.

“The tenacity of the Wardens in action.” He said, grinning to the general. “You see why I need them to fight with me? When the Wardens have a task, they see it through to completion no matter what.”

The general looked over at them, clearly unimpressed by the pair. Caden met his gaze and though she wanted to shrink under the intensity in his grey eyes, she kept her back straight. “You, elf.” He said in a gruff voice. Caden felt her eyebrows twitch closer in irritation at being called elf.

“She has a name, Loghain.” The king reminded genially.

“Oh?” The man called Loghain turned to his king. “What is it, pray tell?” But the king seemed not hear him, suddenly very interested in the papers on the table. Caden felt a little better about forgetting her monarchs name now. She glanced at Duncan who gave a barely perceptible nod.

“My name is Caden Tabris, Ser.” She said, trying to keep her voice steady. She was back to feeling so lost and small in the camp and in this close space with so many tall, broad human men. She had almost forgotten how that felt.

“You look like you fought messily today.” He remarked brusquely. “Are you wearing more of your own blood or the enemies I wonder.”

Caden blanched and looked down at herself. She did look a state, with her own red lifeblood mingling with the dark ichor of those she’d killed. In addition to that mix, was her own sweat and dirt from the woods. She gathered she didn’t look anywhere near as seductive as Daveths smithy did wearing evidence of her hard work on her skin and attire.

“It’s theirs.” She replied. “I’m relatively unscathed, thank you for asking.”

“Caden fought well today,” Alistair said and the edge to his voice was clear.

“I have no doubt,” Loghain grunted in response “But some finesse wouldn’t go amiss. Save you getting quite so coated in filth.”

“Nothing a good wash won’t fix,” the king said smiling. “I’d like to see you fight tomorrow,” he added to Caden. “I’ve not had much chance to watch elves fight.”

Caden caught the slightest eyeroll from Loghain that endeared him to her, despite his imposing stature and rude comments. She didn’t really know what to say to the king in response. Duncan came to her aid.

“Tomorrow we will hold the Joining and all being well, you can watch Caden spar with the other Wardens, Cailan.” Ah, that was the name. “You are of course always welcome to observe.”

“Well, then, good luck,” Cailan said. “I shall hopefully see you tomorrow once you have joined the Wardens.” He nodded his farewell and then turned and repeated the move. “Alistair.”

“Your Highness,” Alistair said, eyes down, once again giving a small bow. Then he headed out of the tent, with Caden following behind this time. He marched halfway across their camp before he stopped abruptly. “So, bathing.” He said without dressing up his words. “You do look a terrible mess; I’ll find Lyra and she can take you to get cleaned up.”

Caden flinched. Alistair was being very curt with her all of a sudden and adding that to her embarrassment at just how overdue a thorough wash she was, was making her feel very hot and prickly. Her voice dried up in her throat and she just nodded mutely. Alistair looked around, taking advantage of his height to spy the curly headed archivist.

“Lyra!” he called and headed for her, with Caden slowly traipsing behind. “Can you take Caden to the river? She badly needs to bathe.” Another wince from Caden that Alistair didn’t acknowledge. Lyra nodded, her curls bouncing as she smiled.

“Of course,” she replied cheerily. “Let’s head to our tent first, get this armour off and find you some clothes.” Alistair was moving before Lyra finished talking and disappeared, leaving Caden to continue her silent act with Lyra now. She let herself be corralled to the tent and helped out of her armour. She didn’t even complain that Lyra had busied herself finding a spare set of clothes while Caden was in the Wilds.

The river was fast and thankfully devoid of humans when the women found it. The water was cold and Caden tried to forget that she was in her smalls beside a woman she barely knew, out in a river where anyone could happen past. She shivered and washed the water over her limbs and body, quickly going numb. The water ran brown and pink and black as the dirt and different types of blood and filth sloughed off her and sped downriver. The sun had set and the moon was rising, so she felt almost like she was bathing in moonlight. Far from being a romantic idea, it was icy and unpleasant, but once it was over, she dressed in the too big tunic and baggy trousers, stuffing the excessive cloth around her calves into her mothers’ boots. Lyra had cooed over her hair, which was long when it was loose and the night light had turned the gold to silver. Caden let the numb feeling remain after the chill abated and so let Lyra play with her long locks, plaiting it into a rope that she then wound around itself and pinned atop her head. Caden wanted to cry off dinner, but her stomach protested loudly about that thought, so she found herself back at the mess tent holding a hearty bowl of stew, bread and more fruit.

Lyra saw Caden to her seat and then, smiling, headed off to sit with the rest of the proper Wardens. Caden found herself sitting next to Alistair opposite two empty chairs. Alistair was lost in thought, ripping pieces off his hunk of bread and dropping them into his stew. It seemed like a reasonable way to eat, but Caden noticed that his eyes were glassy and his aim was off; the bread that fell in the stew only did so by accident, not design. Alistair wasn’t even aware that she was next to him so Caden, not knowing what else to do, picked up her spoon and took a mouthful of her food. The meat was goat and with one bite Caden was at once transported back to the Alienage, the smell of the stew differing only by the slightly different herbs in the bowl. Her throat tightened around the meat as she thought of her father at home alone eating a single bowl at their table built for three and she coughed. For a terrifying moment the diced goat remained wedged in her throat, but then it shifted and she was able to swallow, drawing a gulping breath. She inhaled deeply, the breath ending in a sob. Caden clamped her fist over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut to keep any tears at bay. She didn’t need to lose it; she _couldn’t_ lose it right now. And for what? For eating similar food to what she ate back home? The flavour wasn’t exact, her portion was bigger than ever and she had fruit to accompany it. This was nothing like back home. Nothing _here_ was like back home. The image of Cyrion eating by himself flashed back before her eyes.

Despite her growling stomach, Caden shoved the bowl of stew and bread away. She grabbed the apple and got up from the table in a rush. She tripped on the chair, knocking it to the ground, but she kept her feet. Alistair seemed to awaken from whatever reverie had claimed him and he whirled in the chair seeing her for the first time. “Caden? What’s--?”

She didn’t wait to hear him; she clung to her apple and fled from the tent.

 

*

 

Caden knew she couldn’t return to her bunk just yet. She wasn’t ready to face people yet, especially not Lyra with her perky attitude and misplaced kindness. The sky was fully dark now and the camp was sporadically lit by lanterns here and there. Caden shivered in the night air, wishing she had a cloak on. She walked blindly through the camp. It looked so different in the dark and she didn’t know her way at the best of times. She rolled the apple in her hands while she walked, if only to give her anxious fingers something to do. It was red and fat, and she was starving, but she didn’t take a bite.

After some time weaving in and out of the ruins, dodging tents and various clusters of people, Caden caught a whiff of wet fur and her curiosity propelled her onwards. She found a small encampment of pens, too small for livestock. She edged closer, peering at the pens to see what animals could possibly call this place home. She heard a whine and looked to the pen where this sorry noise had come from.

It was a dog. A huge beast of a dog by Cadens standards, but even though it was huge and probably had a mouthful of sharp teeth, this creature looked so forlorn that Cadens fears were quelled as soon as they rose within her. The dog was lying on its side, its chest rising and falling slowly. The moonlight picked up the whites of the dogs’ eye, which was the only way Caden could tell it had made an effort to look at her, gazing over the half wall into the pen. Then a noise made her start, as the dogs stubby tail started thumping rhythmically against the floor.

“Hey you,” Caden said in a hushed voice. “You don’t look so good.”

The wagging intensified, though the dog still made no move to get up. Caden relaxed further, resting her chin on her arms on the wall. “I don’t feel great either.” She said. “I don’t belong here, you see.” The dog managed to lift up its head and its mouth opened, the tongue lolling out over the lower jaw. “You look ridiculous.” Caden said with affection. She reached for her apple and took a few bites, crunching loudly in the darkness. The dog sniffed the air. “You want this? Do dogs even eat apples?” She wondered out loud.

A hand found her shoulder and Caden heard her name, but she had already leapt out of her skin. There was nowhere to go, with a hand on her back and her front against the wall and panic shot through her veins like a cold knife. Her hand jerked and the apple flew into the pen. Caden spun as well as she could, knocking her knee on the stones, but she was able to turn and her fist dove upwards and connected with the underside of a jaw. It hurt; her hand went white hot, then numb and her knee was complaining loudly. She heard growling behind her; the dog was up on shaky feet, letting its presence be known.

“Ow!” The haze of fear dulled as the familiar voice cut through. Alistair stepped back a few paces, recoiling at the punch to his face, rubbing his jaw. Caden felt a red mist descend.

“You _arsehole_.” She snapped her breathing fast and ragged. “I told you not to just grab me, what were you doing, what were you thinking, you can’t… you can’t just sneak up on me…”

Her words stumbled over each other and fell out of her mouth in a heated rush. Her anger was too hot and fast for her tongue to make sense of the things she needed to say.

Alistair looked down at Caden, his hand still tenderly feeling the point where she had struck him She felt a poisonous glee that he was in pain. “Caden, I’m sorry. I thought you heard me.”

Caden was shaking with rage, her distress and fury too fierce to calm down yet. She had told him, hadn’t she? Not to just grab people? Had he really not realised she meant her? What would it take for him to learn?

“This hurts, by the way,” Alistair said, gesturing to his jaw. Caden felt a new spike of irritation at his complaint, but to her surprise he chuckled. “Good arm.”

The unexpected compliment cut through the hot waves of rage and she felt the first signs of it abating. In the pen, the dog had stopped growling and Caden suddenly her the crunch of her apple. She glanced over her shoulder to see the dog with apple juice all over its muzzle. “I guess they do eat apples after all.”

Alistair moved his jaw from side to side, making it click. Caden winced. “That one does at any rate.” Then he sighed. “Caden, I’m really sorry for frightening you. I should be better at this by now. I’m sorry.”

The apology sounded sincere, but Caden couldn’t help but note that it was by no means the first apology he had given her. “Don’t do it again, and I might forgive you.” She warned. She was in no mood to feel any more stupid and jumpy. She lowered her hands, feeling her fists unclench finally. She was still hungry, but mostly she was tired. “Can you direct me back to the Wardens tents?” Caden asked. “I think I’d best get to bed before I get any more lost.”

“Of course,” Alistair replied. “Big day tomorrow. The Joining.”

“I can’t wait,” Caden deadpanned. They walked back to the Wardens tents in the quiet darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song title inspiration is Chin Up by Yoke Lore.   
> I'm sure it's clear that I've extended the time period between getting to Ostagar and the battle that takes place, but the Joining is coming! I just like the idea of taking some time to get to know a few not long for this world characters and I'm definitely a fan of forcing interactions between Alistair and Cailan. I like to explore what they know of each other and how that informs the way they are with each other. Also I'm just a mean author who brings the angst!


	10. Let Me Live/Let Me Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And so we come at last to the Joining..."

** Let Me Live/ Let Me Die **

_Fear in the dark, all these thoughts have never stopped_

 

It was with an aching head and a growling belly that Caden sat down to break her fast the next morning. Sleep had not been easy to come by, nor keep, and she had been woken by the same crushing feeling as the previous night, with Vaughans face hovering above her in sleep. The one bright side was that Lyra had slept through these night terrors, leaving Caden to take her time to quietly catch her breath and allow her heartrate to steady without the watchful eye of the other woman. The prospect of the secretive Joining was weighing heavily on her and Caden settled into her chair with her bowl of porridge and honey with a glum expression.

Alistair was back beside her and now they were graced with the presence of Daveth again. He was yawning over his drink, but he was grinning to himself when Caden sat down. He spotted her and nodded. “Mornin’,” he said with a drawl in his voice. Caden looked up and blinked. “Wow, you look rough.” He commented without scorn. “Bad night?”

Alistair glanced her way and Caden pressed her lips into a thin line before replying. “Fine thanks.”

“My night was long and hard.” Daveth quipped with a chuckle.

“I didn’t ask.” Caden bit back curtly. He was making her feel quite nauseous with his cheer and double entendres, but she was determined to eat her breakfast. She’d definitely regretted leaving her dinner last night when her stomach had protested after the first time waking up from a bad dream. She had been surprised that her dreams hadn’t contained any of the new horrors she had faced the day before, slaying the darkspawn. It just served to prove that Vaughan had been a monster in his own right, not to mention that he had been haunting her since she was thirteen, rather than something she hadn’t even known existed until recently. Caden dragged her mind back to the present and gestured with her spoon to the empty seat opposite Alistair. “How is Jory?”

“Better, I believe.” Alistair replied. “I’m going to see him later, but I understand his injuries have much improved today.”

“Good.” Caden said and found she meant it. She didn’t like the man, but she would have been sorry to hear he was wounded without the means to recover. “So, when is the Joining?”

Daveth’s grin wiped off his face, replaced with a more serious look as he awaited the answer.

"Soon," Alistair said quietly.

Caden started to eat her food and watched Alistair covertly. There was a small but angry looking bruise on his jawline, which Caden assumed she could take credit for. She hadn’t thought she’d hit him _that_ hard. He still seemed as lost in himself as he had by the end of the day yesterday. It struck her that there was every chance that he was nervous about the Joining, given that these three were his charges. She didn't have the energy to worry about him, not while her insides were in knots. She focused on getting a good breakfast into her.

The elf was back at the pot wash. Caden handed over her bowl and spoon with reluctance, but the elf took it with a big smile. Caden hesitate before moving off, but seeing that no humans were in earshot she asked: "What's your name?"

The elf looked up surprised, but not perturbed by the question. "Me? Salasan, Ser,"

Being titled as Ser gave her an uncomfortable jolt. "I'm not a knight." She corrected quietly. "I'm just a recruit."

"Well, good luck to you then, miss." He said kindly. It occurred to Caden that this young man appeared to be about her age. Their lives were so different despite both being at the Grey Warden encampment. It sat strangely with her. At a loss of anything else to say Caden bid farewell and took off.

She had a destination in mind, no aimless wandering on this day. She remembered fuzzily the route to the kennels and after a few wrong turns she found herself before the pens. The smell of the dogs hit and she approached, looking for her friend. The thump-thump-thump of the tail reached her ears before she clapped eyes on the beast and when she peered over the wall, she was greeted with that same dog smile, and lolling tongue.

"Good morning," she said softly. "How are you doing today?" The dog made no move to stand, but listened as she spoke to it.

"Excuse me, miss?" Caden turned and saw a bearded man approaching her. He had called to her with plenty of space between them and was making his way to her in a wide arc, as if keeping himself in her widest peripheral view. It struck her as a way someone might approach a wary animal and yet it didn't bother her. She almost smiled thinking that she could suggest the same to Alistair, to treat her like a flighty beast. Maybe then he wouldn't keep sneaking up on her.

"Good morning," she said to the human man who had reached the wall with her. "I hope you don't mind me looking at your hound."

"Mabari," the man corrected. "And of course not."

"Mabari then." Caden said. "It's beautiful. I'm afraid it ate my snack last night. I hope that didn't mess with its gut?"

The man’s eyes crinkled with mirth, though his beard didn't move. "What did she get off you?"

"An apple."

"Ah," he chuckled, finally breaking into a small smile. "That won't do any harm." He stuck out a hand. "Farald Mason, kennel master."

Caden looked down at the meaty hand. Why did humans have to be so big? Nevertheless, she reached over and shook his hand politely, heart hammering in spite of the kindness in his face. "Caden Tabris," she replied. "Warden Recruit."

His bushy eyebrows rose sharply. "Oh aye? Well, they're saying this is a true Blight, so it's Wardens we need now more than ever. Glad you're here."

Caden didn't want to point out that she wasn't a Warden just yet, not when his reaction had been so positive. Instead she turned back to the mabari. She was a beautiful creature, but she still wasn't getting up. Farald heaved a heavy sigh beside her.

"She's not right, this one." He said. Caden frowned automatically in response.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Darkspawn." Farald said grimly. "They fight the evil creatures and can't help but ingest the sick blood. Then _they_ get sick. I'm running low on supplies, and her owner didn't make it back from the last fight they were in. Don't have anyone I can ask to go and restock."

"What do you need?" Caden asked, watching the mabari roll over onto her side again.

"A medicinal flower." Farald explained. "They're pretty common in the wilds, but so are darkspawn. I can't ask anyone to go out just for flowers for an owner-less mabari."

"I'll do it." Caden heard herself say. "I've been to the Wilds. I'm sure I could find this flower."

Farald considered her for a long moment. "You would do that?" Caden nodded. "Alright then. It's a white blossom with a red centre and it has a sweet smell, like honey." Caden nodded again, trying to confine that information to memory. "I don't want to rush you, but she could use it sooner rather than later."

"I understand." Caden said sincerely. With a last look at the mabari, she turned and headed back to the Wardens camp.

 

*

 

"Alistair?"

He looked up from the armour he was oiling to see Caden looking nervously at him. She always seemed a little on edge, unless she was entirely consumed by nerves. Those seemed to be her two most popular modes, with outright obnoxious a close third. Alistair offered a smile to set her at ease, which worked as well as it usually did. Which was not at all. "What do you need?" He replied.

Caden stepped closer, her arms straight at her sides, but her hands were quietly clenching and unclenching. Alistair wasn't even sure if she was aware of that fact.

"Can I ask you something?"

Alistair set down the oiled rag. He was practically done anyway. "So far you've said two things and both were questions. So, sure, ask away."

Caden hesitated a moment, seeming to consider her words before speaking. "Can you take me into the Wilds?"

Of all the things he would have expected, this was probably the least likely. Alistair furrowed his brow. "The Wilds? What for? Couldn't get enough of the luscious landscape? Eager to kill more darkspawn?" Then a thought struck him and he frowned in dismay. "You're not thinking about Morrigan again are you? I know you said you quite liked how she lived, but you can't just run off to her and her mother."

Alistair watched Cadens face shift from anxious to surprised and then it settled on annoyed. Great, another wrong turn.

"Oh yes, I thought I'd go live with the witches in the wilds." Caden retorted, sarcasm oozing into her words. “Do you think I’m asking you to run away with me? Do you really think if I was going to sneak off, I’d come and ask you for permission first?”

Alistair held up his hands in a sign of peace. “You’re right.” He smiled tiredly. He really wasn’t doing well with Caden, but he had no idea how to talk to her without inadvertently stepping all over his words. It was a special talent of his to always say the wrong thing, but he’d never gotten on someone’s bad side quite as quickly as this. Not when he was trying to get along with them. “So, the Wilds? What’s out there that you want?”

He watched Cadens jaw work as she seemed to rein in her irritation at him. After a moment she swallowed whatever she might have wanted to snark at him. “A flower.”

She was full of surprises. “A flower?” He asked, resisting the urge to make another joke. His mind leapt from one attempt at humour to the next; was she hoping to build a get well soon bouquet for Ser Jory or did she think the Grey Wardens were lacking in floral headgear as part of their armour? None of it was worth trying to make a joke with. For the first time in his twenty years on Thedas, Alistair held his tongue.

Caden nodded. “The mabari I was watching last night? She’s sick and her owner died, so there’s no-one to get her a flower that she needs. The kennel master said it would help…” Alistair watched her trail off, her expression deflating somewhat. She hadn’t approached him with overwhelming confidence, but whatever she had had was now nowhere to be seen.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s just occurred to me that maybe he was just messing with me. Does it… sound stupid to use a flower to heal a dog?” Her face was guarded, but her large blue eyes, he could see, were open and anxious. He shook his head quickly.

“No, not at all.” Alistair lowered his hands to rest on his knees. “Look at elf root; a plain looking plant, but you brew it a certain way and it fixes what ails you.” He shrugged. “Why would he want to mess with you?”

Caden’s head dipped, angling her gaze downwards to her feet. Her hands clenched into a fist again and this time they didn’t relax. She opened her mouth a few times, but no words were forthcoming. Alistair couldn’t help but wonder what she was trying and failing to say, but rather than push her, he decided to jump to the pertinent point. “No time to go to the Wilds today.” He explained simply. “We can’t risk you being late for the Joining.” Her eyes met his and she could see the disappointment in them. “I can promise you that after the Joining there will be ample opportunity to find it, though. We’ve got to train new Wardens on how to use the darkspawn sense you’ll get after and there’s no better place to practise than the place where the horde keep coming from.”

Caden didn’t look thrilled to hear this. It was hard to say whether it was the flat-out denial of her request or the stuff that would occur after the Joining. And, Alistair thought ruefully, she didn’t know the half of it. A stab of guilt caught him unexpectedly. It didn’t seem right to keep everything from the recruits. She might have been conscripted, but even so it didn’t seem fair to hide the truth. Not to mention the fact that she’d caught his stumbles with omitting certain facts about the Joining, so she probably had some idea of what was to come. “Caden…” Alistair started, well aware that he was needlessly talking himself into telling her everything.

“I get it, it’s fine.” Caden hurried to say. Alistair was momentarily confused, until he realised that she of course hadn’t heard his inner conscience talking and was referring to the trip to the Wilds. “It can probably wait. I don’t know, I don’t know how darkspawn illnesses… progress? I would like to get it later if I can though.”

“Caden,” Alistair raised his voice ever so slightly and cut Caden short. She blinked. “I promise we’ll look for the flower as soon as you’re a Warden.” _If you survive that is_. His heart thrummed with discomfort. “You have my word.”

Caden considered him for a long while, then nodded. “Thank you.” She said softly. Alistair nodded and watched as she backed up, eventually turning and heading away from him. Alistair picked up the rag again and half-heartedly started working the leather again, before he spotted that he was going over a section that was already well oiled. It didn’t sit right, keeping the biggest secrets from them, the recruits. It was Duncans call to make as Warden Commander and he’d kept Alistair and his fellow recruits just as in the dark, but even so. Alistair put away his cleaning implements and headed to find Duncan to see if there was anything he needed from him for the ritual. Anything to pre-occupy his mind.

 

*

 

“And so, we come at last to the Joining.”

Caden tried to relax, but her jaw was clenched tightly, her heart racing. She stood, with the other recruits, in a secluded area outside of Ostagar. Alistair had come to fetch her and with Daveth and Jory, now on two legs once again and with only a slight limp, they had traversed the fortress and placed distance between them and the rest of the soldiers. Heavy woodland was their destination and now they stood in a clearing with a few torches burning and trees all around them. The sun was just going down, casting them into gloom.

Duncan was standing by a small chest that he had yet to open. Caden didn't know what was inside it, but she didn't hold out high hopes of it containing something pleasant. Alistair was at his side, with the three recruits facing the Wardens. Caden risked a momentary glance to her right, gazing briefly at Daveth and then Jory. Both were tall and stoic, with no hint of dismay on either face. Maybe it was just her who was questioning her every life choice that had led to standing in this moment right now.

"The Grey Wardens are intricately linked with the Blight, for it was during the very first Blight that the Grey Wardens were formed." Duncan was saying solemnly. "As the darkspawn horde kept growing, it was determined that something radical was needed to quell their numbers and save all of humanity. So it was that soldiers came together to embark on a new journey to victory; they partook of their fallen foes blood and so it was that the Grey Wardens were born. This is what we all must do in order to join the Grey Wardens."

The words were spoken with such reverence, yet were so casual in their explanation of becoming a Warden that Caden almost missed the relevant parts. Jory was much quicker on the uptake.

"You want us to drink their blood?" He blustered. "Darkspawn blood?"

It was to Alistair that Caden looked, torn as she was between disgust and a strange urge to laugh. She knew the darkspawn blood would end up coming back to haunt her ever since Alistairs cagey words and as he met her gaze she could see an apology in his eyes. That quelled any mirth that might have come out of her mouth.

"There are plenty of soldiers back at camp who are dying from taking in darkspawn blood." Daveth pointed out very quietly.

"As our predecessors before us did, we drink darkspawn blood." Duncan nodded. He bent and opened the chest, withdrawing three glass bottles of something that was ominously thick and dark. Alistair stepped forward and took them as Duncan retrieved three silver chalices. They were beautifully crafted drinking vessels and it seemed so barbaric to fill them with that gore yet, and now the horrible giggling urge was back, wasn't that exactly what they were asking them to do with their bodies? "It is the source of our power, though it comes at a cost. Daveth is right that people die from the darkspawn taint, and there is no guarantee of surviving the Joining for any of you." Duncan straightened and looked at each of them in turn, letting his words sink in. "This is not purely darkspawn blood, but a concoction that includes the blood. If you survive drinking it, you become one of us and so become immune to the taint."

"It's how we are able to sense the darkspawn," Alistair added gruffly. "Due to the taint in our bodies."

It made sense, she had to admit. She would never have guessed what the cause for the darkspawn sense would have been, but now that he said it plainly it seemed like the most obvious reason. Caden couldn't seem to look away from Alistair; Duncan was standing and talking and it all seemed important, but Alistairs drawn face was holding her attention firmly. He had led them into the Wilds to gather blood for this ritual that might kill them. He had kept all of this back, kept it to himself. It would have made sense for him to have kept his charges at arm’s length. Caden supposed that was probably what she would have done, but Alistair had been friendly and encouraging and concerned when Jory had been injured. He didn't want them to die. He wanted them to live.

Caden heard Jory and Daveth say something in response to Duncan, and realised they were all waiting for her to do the same. She looked blankly at Duncan.

"Are you ready, Caden?" Duncan repeated.

Caden gave a stilted nod. "If I die," she said suddenly, directing this to Alistair. "Promise you'll get that flower?"

Alistair just nodded back.

If the others were confused by this exchange, they gave no sign. Caden suspected the chances were very high that they were wrapped up in their own thoughts. The feeling in the clearing under the clouds was one of sombre trepidation and Caden had lied. She wasn't ready. Not even a little bit.

"We speak only a few words before the Joining, but they are of great importance." Duncan said. "Alistair, if you would be so kind."

Alistair swallowed then began to recite an oath with portentousness. "Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry out the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you." Caden shuddered as a chill breeze swept through the clearing, causing the flames of the torches to bow and flicker. Shadows danced across Duncan, as he uncorked the first bottle and poured it into a chalice.

"Step forward Daveth."

For a moment there was no movement in the woods. Then Daveth did as requested and stepped up to take the chalice with a shaky hand. He peered distrustfully into the cup, but then, looking a lot more like his usual self, threw out a wan grin. "Whatever it takes." Daveth said, then knocked the cup back, swallowing its contents with ease. He handed Duncan back the cup. "Urgh, that's vile." He turned to stand back with the others, and it was as he turned that Caden felt her heart plummet into her stomach because his face suddenly went pale and taut. His mouth opened in a keening cry, and his fingers flew to his face, where he pressed his nails into his skin and dragged long rivets down his face, down to his neck, where he scratched and tore, his howl barely human. Caden was frozen in her spot as she watched. Was this normal? Was this him becoming a Warden? Or was he dying?

It felt like longer, but before she had even finished her stream of thoughts, the cocksure young horse thief was prone on the ground. Face in the dirt, unmoving.

Duncan sighed and nodded to Alistair. Caden watched him approach the body of Daveth and as respectfully as possible, he dragged him off to one side. Duncan was pouring the next cup, but Caden watched as Alistair took a knee beside Daveth and reached over to close his eyes and tuck his arms over his chest. He had wanted them all to live.

"Jory, step up," Duncan said, holding out the cup. Jory's chest was heaving as he moved closer. His breath was nothing but ragged panting and his eyes were wild. Even so he clasped the cup, but he was shaking so hard that the contents sloshed violently within. As a few drops flew from the chalice and landed on his hand, he reacted as if it were acid, flinging the cup aside in terror.

"No!" He barked. "I can't, I won't!"

Caden looked down as the chalice came to a stop by her feet, a small pool of dark liquid sinking into the forest floor.

"I have a child on the way." Jory was shaking his head. "My wife is expecting, she needs me. There is no glory in this! This was a mistake."

Duncan looked up with great sorrow. "There can be no mistakes."

Jory grabbed his sword and drew it, the edge of the metal glinting in the pale moonlight. He held it out towards Duncan. Caden couldn't believe what was happening. She saw Alistair rise and reach for his own weapon, no doubt his instinct to protect his commander, but Duncan was quicker. His own sword was out and ready, parrying Jorys clumsy, fear driven swings.

"Just let me leave, I shan't speak of this to anyone--" Jory pleaded, but it was too late. His fate was sealed. Duncan made light work of his foe, expertly blocking the panicked strikes until his blade sank into Jorys chest. Caden's blood ran cold as the light faded from Jorys eyes; his frantic fears fading with his life. Duncan pulled back his sword as Jory fell to his knees, dropping his own weapon and then he collapsed like a broken doll, in a heap on the floor of the clearing. Dead.

"Are you alright, Duncan?" Alistair asked. Duncan turned away from Jorys body and wiped his sword clean, without a word of an answer. Alistair hesitated only a moment before moving Jory off to one side, with the same tact as he had shown Daveth, despite the fact that he had watched this man attempt to kill his commander.

Caden stood alone now. Her fellow recruits were dead. It had only been a few minutes since Daveth had taken a sip from his cup, and now she was the only one left. She couldn't stop shivering. How had she gotten to this place?

"Caden, step forward and submit yourself to the taint." Duncan held out her goblet. Was there a steely tone to his voice that hadn't been there before or was she paranoid?

Caden stared up at the Warden Commander, unable to move, unable to speak. Alistair cautiously moved up beside him, eyes imploring her to do as instructed. Duncan gave her a long look. "Caden." There was no mistaking the authority in his voice now.

"You killed him." Caden finally managed. "You killed them both."

"The Joining is not without risk." Duncan repeated his words from earlier. "Step forward."

Caden heard her blood rush in her ears. She was fizzing with every sight and sound that had flashed before her in this clearing that she felt she might explode. It was all too much. "You didn't stop my execution, you just postponed it," Caden said, her voice hollow. "You swapped my head being mounted on a spike, for a secret ceremony in the middle of nowhere. You're giving me a poisoned cup and you're challenging me not to die." Now she laughed and the laughter was strangled and coarse.

"Are you refusing as Jory did?" Duncan asked. He hadn't moved any closer and the chalice remained between him and her, his arm outstretched. "Or will you drink?"

When Caden replied she looked squarely at Alistair. "Will you kill me if I don't?" Alistair looked away.

Without taking another second to think, Caden felt her body regain a sense of movement, bridging the short gap to the cup. She grabbed it, her hands suddenly steady and without pausing she closed her eyes and drank deep.

It tasted like metal. The taste of pricking a finger and sticking the digit in her mouth to stem the blood flow. It tasted like herbs, like nothing she could ever recall having ingested before. It tasted like the smell of a dying genlock. It tasted like salt, like crying into a pillow and feeling the tears dribble into a wailing mouth. Caden waited for the pain that killed Daveth to kick in and take her, too. She opened her eyes to see the men watching her. A moment ticked into the next and again and again. She still drew breath. Her heart still beat in her chest. Maybe this was all it took to Join. Maybe she was alright.

Oh...

Heat blossomed inside her, as if the poison had caught fire. She felt the pain flare up her throat, down her limbs, it was everywhere. Caden doubled over in shock and agony. Her breath was short, it was too hard to scream. The fierce flames consumed her.

She heard someone say her name from far, far away as the darkness dragged her down.

 

_How can I fight darkspawn if I'm on fire? I need water. I need... someone please save me. Sharp spikes in my head, over and over and over and over. Please save me from this, oh please. I'll do anything, just make it stop, make it stop! Take me, I don't care, take me, kill me, end this agony, oh please, oh please..._

_Where is she? I want my mother, mother, please save me. It hurts. The flames, the fire, the burning. This is…_

_It's abating...is it? I don't know. Have my nerves been burned away...is there anything left of me?_

_It's so dark here, but I can hear things all around me...voices whispering. What are they saying? I don't like this..._

_They're everywhere. All over. They creep around the edges and watch and wait and bide their time. I can feel...Him. I think it's a him. I know what he is._

_He knows what I am._

_Wait...there are people here...shadows...I can feel them. They're so few, but they stand between me and Him. Some are very far away and some are closer. They feel like...like fortress walls...like wards. The pain is duller now and I can feel them instead._

_The light is returning. Warmth and safety. No more fire._

_Open your eyes._

 

"It is done. From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden." Those were the words that greeted Caden as she came to. Duncans face hovered over her. "Welcome, Caden Tabris, Warden-Sister."

Caden pushed him away before she could stop herself. He was too damn close. She scrambled backwards, creating some distance between her and Duncan, and Alistair who was peering over his shoulder.

"Give her some space," she heard Alistair murmur to his commander.

Caden felt dampness on her hand and looked to the side. She was beside Jorys body and when she raised her hand, she saw his blood smeared on her palm. She felt rage rise up and she hurried to her feet.

"Caden?" Alistair asked cautiously. "You survived."

"They didn't." She snapped with a gesture to the corpses next to her. She stood up on shaky legs.

"I know," Alistair sounded raw. "In my Joining only one of us died, but it was awful. I'm glad you made it through." He started towards her, with something in his hand. "I assure you, we don't forget the sacrifice of recruits who don't survive. And here, this is for you." He held out an amulet with a chain coiled in his palm. "We gather some of the blood and put it in a pendant, as a memento of those who didn't make it this far."

Caden stared down at the necklace in horror. "I don't want that," she spat. She thrust her hand out, swiping the amulet out of Alistairs palm and onto the ground. The silver of the necklace flashed in the as it caught the moonlight. She couldn't believe that she had felt sorry for him earlier. She couldn't stand the sight of him now, or Duncan. She whirled on the commander. "Why didn't you say what this took? You kept all of this back, kept it to yourselves. No wonder you have to conscript people; who would want to join something like this if they had a damn choice? You talk of honour, but this is not honourable. This is dumb luck, that I'm alive and they are dead." This was said with a growl and a wave of her hand towards the bodies of Jory and Daveth. Alistair was silent, Duncan patient. She wanted to smack them both. Instead she turned and grasped one of the torches stuck in the ground, wrenching it free and preparing to march off.

"Duncan...?" She heard Alistairs questioning tone, but neither made a move to stop her as she stalked out of the clearing. Before she lost herself between the trees, she heard Duncan call after her.

"Your training begins tomorrow morning, Sister."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from the song of the same name by Des Rocs. 
> 
> Not sure how it's taken 10 chapters to get to the the Joining, but here we are! I decided that to preserve the secrecy of the ritual they would leave the actual fortress rather than doing it where anybody could walk by. And I also took liberties with the timeline to fiddle when Caden meets the mabari. Hooray for the freedom of fanfiction, which also allowed me to take some time to get into Alistairs head; it must be quite a big deal to lead recruits to the Joining, knowing they might die.


	11. I'm Still Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of the rest of her life as Caden is now a Grey Warden and it's time for some training.

** I’m Still Here **

_Oh, the past it wanted me dead_

****

“Caden?”

Caden remained in the same position, her hands wrapped around her knees, the blanket over her head. A ball of petulance and childish fear. It was over. It had happened. She had not died. She didn’t feel like she could face anyone. She heard Lyras footsteps approach her bunk. A gentle pressure on her shoulder. Lyras hand. Not as repulsive a touch as most humans, but even so Caden was surprised to feel a burst of relief in her chest at this contact. She could feel Lyra beside her, not her body as such, her energy. Like a warm glowing light in the dark. It was this that stilled Cadens ragged heartbeat.

She had come straight back to her tent after leaving the clearing, stumbling through the woods and then through Ostagar until she had found her bunk and curled up alone. Alone until Lyra had come to find her.

“Are you hungry?” Lyra asked softly. “It’s dinnertime. You really should eat; the Joining is a gruelling ordeal.”

As if on cue Caden felt her stomach give a loud rumble. “Come, sit with me.” Lyra cajoled. Caden let the blanket slide off her face. Lyra folded it at the foot of the bed. “You can meet the other Wardens.”

Still mute Caden got to her feet. Lyra was taller, as it seemed was everyone compared to her here, and Cadens sight focused on a silver chain vanishing beneath Lyras neckline. Was that her own pendant, her symbol of the Joining? Cadens insides fought briefly, either protesting starvation or threatening to purge whatever little there was in her belly. Hunger won when Caden tore her gaze from Lyras necklace.

“How was it?” Lyra asked. Caden walked beside the human woman and made no move to reply. “I hear you were the only one who made it.” Lyra said, making Caden frown; why ask in the first place if she knew the answer?

Caden knew they were in the Warden camp, of course, but she was still unprepared for the feeling of walking towards a golden light, a cluster of energy that felt like home. Her father, Shianni, the Alienage all suddenly felt very far away, like a faded painting hidden away in an attic. She gritted her teeth and walked on.

There was a noise, shifting of chairs and rustle of cotton. When Caden lifted her weary head, she was met with a sight of every Warden she had yet to meet standing, one fist pressed to each opposite breast, heads bowed, all towards her. A chorus of voices rose. “Welcome, Sister.”

The feeling like she might throw up was back, but Lyras guiding hand steered her onwards and into a chair at a table she had never sat at. Lyra slipped into the chair beside her and the others sat down, another Warden on her other side. Caden glanced along the table to find the further, smallest seating arrangement. The place she had taken all other meals over the past few days and evenings. Empty chairs at an empty table. She was here, Daveth and Jory were dead and Alistair was nowhere to be seen. Duncan was also notably absent.

“What…” she croaked, breaking off to clear her raw throat. Lyra was filling her cup with wine and smiled encouragingly. “What happens to the others? Their bodies?”

Lyras eyes creased in sorrow. She set down the wine jug. “They’ll be brought over to the healers, the Chantry Sisters. There are rites for the dead and they have means to handle the remains.”

That didn’t seem enough of an answer. “But what happens to them? Where do they go? Into the ground, here? So far from home?” Caden broke off, feeling a prickle at the back of her eyes. No tears. Not now.

Another Warden, a large man with a vibrant orange beard passed Lyra a basket of bread rolls and took up the answer. “We’ll get them home.” He said in a deep voice. “The mages have means of preserving the dead and readying them for transport.”

“Once we’re done here, they’ll be returned back to their homes for interment.” Another Warden chimed in, reaching for the potatoes. “Tombs at Weisshaupt are reserved for only the greatest and most heroic Wardens.”

“Weisshaupt?” Caden asked. She felt like she knew that name.

“Aye, the great Warden fortress,” the bearded man nodded. He had a huge turkey leg in his hands and was surveying the meat, looking for the best place to dive in. “Should we fall in glorious battle, it is to there that we are returned.”

Lyra was busy filling up Cadens plate and the scent of her food wafted into her nose. Caden quietly picked up her food and began to eat. All around her the bustling energy of the Wardens mingled, like being cocooned in a warm blanket on a cold, dark night. Caden couldn’t help but wonder as she ate, whether the sense of the darkspawn would be just as strong, and just how horrible might it comparatively be? That vision she had had during the ritual lingered on the edges of her thoughts, like a vast shadow held at bay by a candle. It had seen her and known her. Was that the darkspawn or was it something worse? She shuddered and sipped her wine, wincing at the unfamiliar alcohol.

The food dwindled, which was remarkable as there was so much available, but it didn’t take long for the Wardens to devour the majority. Cadens belly didn’t seem to fill up, despite shovelling food into her mouth with little pause. She didn’t speak to the others again, but found she didn’t need to; they were eagerly chatting away, joking and teasing each other, so at ease in each other’s company. The bearded Warden even started a song, the noise deafening when the rest of the host joined in. Caden cringed; it was a bit much, but the others didn’t notice as their voices rang out.

_“We are Wardens! One and all! Fight for justice, shield for vengeance! Crush our enemies! One and all!_ ”

After some time, when the songs had died down and her plate was almost empty, Caden looked up at just the right moment to espy Duncan and Alistairs return. The latter caught her gaze practically as soon as she raised her gaze and a dart of anger shot through her. Caden pushed away from the table.

“Caden?” Lyra asked.

“I’m full, I’m tired.” Caden hurried to say. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Alright,” she said. “See you in there.”

Caden was already speeding away from the table, back to her tent and the thin blanket that she could pretend was as comforting as the presence of the Grey Wardens.

 

*

 

Her new armour was beautiful. It felt like a strange word to ascribe to something she wore, a tool for battle, but then she had always through of her mother’s knife as beautiful. And her boots. That was the only new piece of kit that she had eschewed, preferring to stick to what she knew. What she loved. In the midst of the new and unfamiliar, it felt right to keep the boots. The rest of the armour was similar to what she had seen the other Wardens wearing. A mixture of silver, brown and blue regardless of whether the armour was for fighters or robes for magic users, but hers, she noted, was less metallic than that of the warriors. Hers was blue and leather, though there were some light metal rings interlinking down the hauberk and she wore a similarly light plate over her chest and yet more blue and silver over her arms and neck. Her hips were coated in interlocking plates. There would be no way for anyone to stab her there in this get up. Her hands were hidden in leather gloves that were buckled above her elbow, so they were staying put. Everything felt covered, almost every part of her protected and yet she could move. It wasn’t weighing her down like full metal plate assuredly would and she could still dart and weave. Her own advice from that night in Vaughans estate came back to her as she bobbed and ducked in practise; she would never be stronger or tougher, so she had to be faster. She could be faster in this. Only her face was open, though she had a hood in blue that was built into the arm and neck piece, which was fitted with enough metal beneath the cloth that it would at least help to deflect weaker blows or arrows. Hopefully. Any direct hits to her head would cleave her skull, but she had a helmet she could wear over the hood or without, whichever she chose. And then there were her knees. The Wardens boots came up, like the gloves, up to her major joint and then buckled above it for movement. With Adaias boots she was only protected as far as her shins went. Her knees were open to damage, which would rather hinder her efforts to be nimble and quick.

Caden looked at the boots. She knew what was the better choice. Her mothers’ boots were beautiful and meaningful, but her knees were important. Could she let sentimentality leave her vulnerable to attack?

“I don’t suppose…” she started, looking up at the Warden who had introduced himself as Matthias. He had been a smithy in his former life and worked with the quartermaster to create the Wardens armour. He looked over, a question on his face as he waited for her go on. “Would it be possible to amend my boots somewhat?” She asked, feeling awkward. She knew nothing of how to make armour, would it even be possible to make these changes? “I’d like to keep my own boots, but I like that the Warden boots are more protective. Can something be added to my boots to grant me the same protection?”

She waited, frozen in place. Would he laugh at her or get cross for being stupid, and tell her just to wear the damn boots? She hadn’t had to pay for any of this, which was just as well as she had no money to speak of, and so her manners were urging her to be polite, say thank you and nothing more. Even so, she had to ask.

Matthias came over to her and knelt down to look at her boots. Caden remained in place, still and quiet now. “These are nice. I can see they are well worn to your frame. That’ll help you with sneaking around, but you know the darkspawn can sense us just as we can sense them so I can’t see where you’d need that in the battle.” He straightened up, not looking annoyed as such, but he was rubbing his jaw, thinking. “I could probably fashion you some greaves. They’ll go over your boots and come up to here,” he gestured to a space above her knee and Caden worked on not flinching away. He wasn’t anywhere close to touching her after all and he was thinking purely of armour. _Focus_ , she told herself.

“I should be able to get to that. Might not be quick though.” He said after a moment. “I’d suggest you take the boots, they’re yours after all, and practise with them. I’ll sort you out with some greaves.”

“Thank you,” Caden said, trying to effuse all her gratitude into those small words, very aware that it probably fell far short. She was touched at his offer to help and that he’d taken her query seriously at all. She grabbed for the Warden boots and swapped them with Adaias. They fit brilliantly, just as the rest did. Feeling a sense of relief and pleasure for the first time in a while, she hugged her mother’s boots, said her goodbyes and hurried to stash her old boots under her bunk.

 

*

 

In addition to the armour, Caden now had a pair of shiny short swords. It was a bittersweet feeling, like all her Satinalia gifts rolled into one glorious bundle, yet it meant she really was a Warden, really was no longer the girl from the Alienage. She shrugged off the sense of loss she was feeling to focus on what she had gained. Her hands gripped the sword hilts of the practise swords she had traded her sharpened blades for and she dug her toe into the dirt beneath her to test the ground. She waited, exhaling slowly.

“Begin.”

The call came and Caden was a blur; she kept herself low to the ground and darted to the right. _You have to be faster._ She dodged a sword swing above her head, but felt a glancing blow against her shoulder from a shield bash manoeuvre. She rolled her shoulder to try to take the pain, and kept on course. She got behind him, and skidded on her knees – thank goodness for this armour – slicing her blades across his ankles. A cry and he was down, but Caden wasn’t done, scrambling to her feet to finish the circle around him. She leapt, coming down on her knee into his belly, causing an expulsion of bitter air from his throat. Her blade was at his neck.  

“Yield.”

Caden heard the call, but it took her a moment to relax her muscles enough to lower her arm and climb off him. Alistair made no move to get up. Caden leaned over him; she hadn’t actually _hurt_ him, had she? They were using training swords with dulled edges, there was no way she’d actually sliced his tendons. Was there?

He opened his hazel eyes and glared up at her. This was their third bout and she’d felled him each time. Maybe he was sore after all. Caden stepped back, giving him space to slowly get himself to his feet.

“She winded you good and proper!” came a laugh from the barrels that made up a make-shift arena. More laughter joined and Caden flushed. Should she offer Alistair a hand? She doubted she could have helped him up, not in his plate armour and he was so big. She stood back and waited, keeping her gaze averted.

“Alistair, are you ready to go again?” Duncan called from his position on the main path, higher up so he could look down at the fighters.

Alistair nodded and readied himself. Caden took her position opposite. Was he angry? Then she pushed that thought away. She wasn’t exactly thrilled with him or Duncan for keeping back so much about the Joining. Who cared if he was mad?

“Begin.”

Caden’s blood sang as she launched into another run. _You have to be faster._ She ran. A flash of metal. She dove aside, right into the path of Alistairs body. He’d feinted and then planted himself in her course. Damn it. Caden saw the shield and knew it would hit hard. She didn’t think, she dug her foot into the ground and jumped. The shield hit, as expected, which hurt, as expected, but her trajectory was such now that Alistair had to adjust his stance, the shield tipping back, allowing Caden to roll over the shield, minimising some of the pain, but not all. Not by a long shot.

The move was graceful, but her landing was for shit, Caden reflected as she took a face full of dirt. Her swords were gone and Alistair gave no quarter, standing over her as she rolled onto her back. His sword was pointing down at her face.

“Yiel—” Duncan began, but Caden wasn’t done yet. Her blood still raged. _Get that away from me._

Without a thought for her new gloves, she swept her elbow against the dull blade, getting it out of her face. Alistair, expecting the call to yield, was caught unprepared, letting the sword be pushed aside. Then Caden bent her knee and thrust her heel upwards. Alistair made a noise of great pain as Caden found the perfect spot on the man to cause the most immediate hurt, and he staggered backwards. She barely heard the sympathetic cries from the other men around the arena. Caden scrambled to her feet, grabbing a sword from the ground and darting for Alistair, kicking his leg, dropping him to his knees, clutching one hand to himself. Caden thrust her blade out, pressing it to Alistairs neck again.

“Yield!” Came the shout from Duncan, this time with a hard edge to it. Caden once again took a few breaths to calm the blood frenzy before moving away. There was no laughter this time.

“Alistair, switch out please.” Duncan said. Alistair stood up, this time glaring at her with venom she would never had expected from him. When Caden turned to glance up at Duncan, she could see he’d been joined by King Cailan and Loghain. A swell of something like embarrassment made her belly swoop uncomfortably. She hadn’t realised they had an audience.

“Viktur, you go,” Duncan commanded and a burly man picked up the training sword and shield Alistair had dropped and came to face Caden.

“Begin!”

 

*

 

“Are you alright, Alistair?” Duncan asked quietly as he limped towards his commander. Alistair grimaced.

“Just fine.” He grimaced. Alistair looked up and realised that Cailan and Loghain were also in attendance of his failure. Great.

“She fights like she doesn’t believe anyone will yield.” Loghain remarked thoughtfully. Alistair glanced at him. He was watching Caden narrowly avoid a hit to the face and stab at Viktur with her sword. His hand rubbed along his stubbled chin as his hooded gaze remained locked onto Caden below. “She does realise this is merely a training exercise?”

“It’s quite exciting, I think,” Cailan enthused before Duncan could reply to the Teryn. “I’ve never seen an elf fight; do they all fight like this?”

“Elves don’t fight.” Loghain retorted darkly. “Not Alienage born elves. The Dalish are another matter, but elves like her don’t fight.”

“And yet there she stands, blades in hand like she was born with them there.” Cailan asserted watching Caden whirl and parry Vikturs blow, stumbling slightly on her uneven footing.

“Caden was taught to fight by her mother,” Duncan said softly. Alistair’s ear pricked up. “Adaia Tabris almost joined the Grey Wardens when she was around Cadens age. It is true that most Alienage elves do not have the means or opportunity to learn to fight, however Adaias family has always been the kind to balk tradition.” Alistair waited to see if Duncan would elaborate, but his attention was back on the fight. Alistair looked down at the pair. Viktur had lasted longer than he had, but now he watched as Caden barrelled into him from behind, toppling the tall man and thrusting her blade at the back of his neck. That seemed to be her preferred striking point, Alistair mused, rubbing at his neck where she had caught him hard once or twice. “Yield.”

Caden did not move immediately. Alistair had always been trained to freeze when it was clear who was the winner in a bout and then to break away after the call to yield, but Caden didn’t do this. She must have heard the should to yield before, but she hadn’t backed off; she’d doubled down and retaliated harder. When she did back off, it was slowly. It occurred to Alistair that she was like a different person when she fought. Vicious, that was the word for it. Alistair shifted where he stood, still uncomfortable. Duncan called to begin again and Caden burst forward. She would need to learn to conserve her energy in real battles and her stance wasn’t always powerful enough to withstand blows. Alistair leaned forwards, watching her form. If she just put that leg a few inches back, turned the foot to brace herself better she wouldn’t have been staggered by that swing.

“She fights like an alley cat,” Loghain sniffed. “All claws, no prowess. No skill to speak of. Hopeless.”

“And yet she killed darkspawn despite having never even seen them before fighting them,” Alistair cut in sharply, annoyed that the Teryn was vocalising something that rang truthful. “And she’s beaten every man she’s gone up against in this arena. Seasoned fighters.”

Loghain raised one brow very slowly. “Does that not reflect poorly on the Grey Wardens that this untrained girl can best them?”

“Caden fights dirty,” Alistair rebutted, the realisation suddenly hitting him, a soothing balm on his bruised ego. “We’re sparring with rules and decorum; Caden is fighting as if we’re her enemy.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Cailan nodded enthusiastically. Alistair shrank back, annoyed that he had forgotten himself and spoken so freely in the presence of the king. “She doesn’t fight to win; she fights to stay alive.”

“Yield!” Duncan called. Caden glanced up at them, tiredness starting to show on her face.

“I wonder,” Cailan tapped on his chin with one finger. His royal signet ring shone in the late morning sun. “Alistair, get back down there. She fights so hard to protect herself, I want to see what she fights like on a team. See if she’ll protect you just as hard.”

Alistair grimaced, but nodded with a look to Duncan, who gazed back mildly. Alistair limped back down the slight hill, his manhood still tender after the direct hit from earlier. “Hold up.” He said. Caden looked at him. “They want to pair us up for the next bout.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need help.” Caden retorted between pants. “I’m not tired.”

Alistair gave her a look. “Well, you are, but that’s not why. They want to see you work in a team.” Cadens face fell and Alistair couldn’t resist teasing her. “Come on, I promise not to make you look bad.”

“Were you limping just now?” Caden asked, sceptical of his ability to help. Alistair smiled grimly.

“I was. I am. You kicked me.” He explained curtly.

Duncan directed two more fighters into the pit, fresh warriors, full of vigour. Alistair stood beside Caden who looked like she could really use some water and a sit down. She sniffed and rolled her neck. It occurred to Alistair that there was a chance that Caden’s refusal to yield could get her killed in the real world. She had to learn her limits.

“Begin.”

Alistair started forward, trying to avoid the twinge of pain shooting down his thighs. Caden had rushed past in a flash and was paying him no heed whatsoever. So much for team work. Alistair faced down his opponent, Reuben. They were more or less evenly matched, though Reuben had several years on Alistair and no distraction from a previous injury. Alistair lifted his shield to stop Reubens sword, and braced himself against the blow. Alistair swung his own blade at Reubens side, but he deflected it and threw his weight behind his shield to rush at the open Alistair. There was no way to block it; Alistair felt the impact and flew backwards rather ungracefully. He rolled aside to avoid Reubens sword and started to get to his feet as quickly as possible. He looked up and caught a blonde blur again as Caden dove between the men, slamming her fist into Reubens jaw. She’d lost one of her swords, but as Reuben staggered, she kicked him hard, catching him unawares and landing him on his side. Her remaining blade was held before her, subduing Reuben. Alistair stood up straight, catching sight of their other duel mate, sitting in the dust looking shell-shocked.

“Yield.” Duncan called. Alistair looked up to see Cailan talking animatedly to Loghain and Duncan, gesturing from Caden to him and nodding. None of it brought him joy to see. Alistair reached forward to grasp Cadens shoulder, but her words leapt into his mind. _You can’t just grab people._ He paused, arm outstretched. He watched her shoulders relax and she lowered her weapon. Alistair pulled his hand back.

“Caden?” she turned. “Are you alright?”

Her eyes were hooded. For a moment she looked lost, but then she blinked. “Saved you.” She said quietly.

Alistair frowned. That felt like an oddly unkind thing to say given that it was she who had given him his handicap. She looked up again, more focused now and seemed to see him clearer. She stepped away from him, her face blank. It niggled at him, but Duncan was striding down now, so Alistair quashed it and turned to the commander.

“Interesting fighting, Sister.” Duncan said to Caden. She looked up at him, seeming neither concerned nor proud of this assessment. She just looked a weary now. “You have much to learn before the battle. You clearly excel at skirmishes like these, but Alistair, I’d like you to give Caden some advice on facing down a regimented army.”

“Of course, Duncan,” Alistair replied.

“Good.” Duncan smiled. “That’s all for now. Have some lunch, then the king wants to see us in his war room later.”

Caden carried her training swords to the weapons rack, swapped them for the real set and left without another look back. Duncan glanced at Alistair pointedly. “Oh, right.” Alistair hurried after the elf.

 

*

 

Caden stood awkwardly in the tent. She mumbled her thanks to the king as he effused his congratulations over her joining the Wardens. She noted he didn’t mention either of the recruits who didn’t make it, and given the secrecy around the Joining, she couldn’t help but wonder if he knew the facts or if Duncan had spun some story to cover their deaths. Or perhaps he didn’t even know they had died. Then again, Caden thought darkly as Cailan began to elucidate on the glory of riding into battle with the Grey Wardens at his side, perhaps he would forgive them any transgression due to his hero worship of them.

Duncan allowed the king to go on at length, but after a while Loghain became impatient, dragging Cailans attention back to battle planning. Caden caught the king’s frustration in his face and felt a rush of warmth towards him; she could see the sense in being prepared, but it was all the general seemed to think about.

"Well then, as you have more pressing matters to discuss we shall leave you to it," Duncan said eventually and made to lead his Wardens out of the tent, but the noise of shouting came through the canvas. Cailan and Loghain looked up curiously. The tent flaps shook and Caden heard one of the guards outside give a yell. Another disembodied voice clamoured in response "I demand to see the king! This is of vital importance, get out of my way!" and then the tent was breached by a large man with light red hair and a similarly coloured beard. He was wearing armour in the colours of his house, copper and red, and although his hair and beard were peppered with white hairs, his skin heavily lined, lived in, when his face came into view Caden felt her heart stop.

"Vaughan..." she breathed, her sight narrowing to a tunnel, greying out her surroundings, focussing entirely on the large man at the tents entrance. Her knees buckled and she shrank backwards, the memory of his hand on her thigh, moving her legs apart, his breath on her face, his hands around her neck. _It is a very pretty neck._

"What is the meaning of this?" Cailan was asking, his voice sounding muffled, like Caden had plunged her head into a barrel full of ice water. "Urien?"

Urien.

_What_?

Caden blinked slowly. Of course, it couldn't be Vaughan. She had killed him. She had felt his blood on her skin. He was dead. He couldn't hurt her again. Even with this small flicker of sanity, her vision and hearing felt wrong. Everything was cloudy. A face swam into view.

"Caden?" Alistair sounded concerned. “Are you alright?”

_Get it together._ She blinked again raising a hand to her temple. Her head hurt. "I'm fine." She murmured thickly. Alistair didn’t look convinced.

"Majesty, I have received news from Denerim." Urien was saying. Why was his voice so loud? Caden felt it penetrate her skull like knives. She winced. "News from my estate."

Cailan stepped around from the war table. Caden felt her vision clear as she watched him walk. He shared a glance with Duncan, but did not look at her. Caden realised her vantage point then, obscured somewhat out of Uriens line of sight. She stepped quietly to the side, hiding her face from view behind Alistair, who looked confused for a moment, but was already more focused on the king again.

"What have you heard?" Cailan asked steadily. Loghain was moving around the table to stand a little to the side of Cailan.

"That some knife-eared bitch slaughtered my son." Urien barked. "My liege, I apologise for the manner of my entrance, but I had to tell you. The Alienage is filled with these duplicitous elves. No sooner was I away, they murdered my boy. I am certain they mean to overthrow the humans in the city."

Caden frowned. That wasn't right.

"I want that knife-ears head. I want it now." Urien spat, slamming his fist into his hand, spittle flying from his lips. Caden swallowed. Would they hand her over to placate him? He was the Arl of Denerim; clearly he was close enough to the king to feel that he could barge in here and make demands. Her heart was racing. She felt very unsafe and he was blocking the only exit.

"Now, Urien, listen to me," Cailan said, his hand outstretched in a calming manner. "I am sorry for your loss, I am. But the elf who killed him had her reasons." Caden stiffened. Was this a defence from the king? She peeked around Alistair, eyes wide. "And even so, she's a Grey Warden now. You know the law. Once conscripted there is no further action to be taken with regards to criminal behaviour."

At this Duncan stepped forward. "My lord, the young woman in question will serve her time under my guidance."

Urien whirled on him. "That is not good enough!" He roared. The guards at the entrance reached for their sword hilts in readiness. "I want her dead and I want the Alienage purged."

_No_!

Caden hadn't realised she'd cried out loud until Uriens gaze landed squarely on her. His eyes shone with grief and rage, but when he laid his sights on her, she saw that flicker and fade into shock. "You." He said, his voice hollow. "Adaias daughter."

Caden was so surprised by his sudden change of expression that she just nodded dumbly even though it had been a statement, not a question. "You can't purge the Alienage." She said shakily, stepping around Alistair on trembling legs. "Please don't punish them for my actions."

The air went very silent and very still in the tent, even as it filled with unspoken questions. Caden knew the brave thing to do would be to walk, to walk up to the man and walk on past him, but she couldn't move her legs. She didn't want him to get her, yet she had just waved a huge red flag over her position.

"Urien," Cailan said, suddenly sharp. "Let her leave."

Caden couldn't tear her eyes from Urien, but she desperately wanted to look at the king. For the first time she felt a wave of loyalty to her monarch, a trust in the promise he had made her to fix the broken Alienage she hailed from. She also wanted to get out, but her feet wouldn't move her closer to Arl Kendalls. Alistair turned to her and leaned in. "Come on, Caden. We are expected elsewhere.”

_They were?_ Caden nodded jerkily, still keeping her eyes on Urien, but when she felt Alistair start to walk, she managed to follow.

" _Where is my justice?_ " Urien snapped. Duncan started to speak, but Urien let out a howl and suddenly his hand shot towards Caden as she tried to pass him. She cried out in fear and pain as his fist clenched around her forearm, squeezing.

"Hey!" Alistair yelled.

She heard more shouting, but her world narrowed back down to her and him and Uriens face was inches from hers as he hissed at her. "What did you think you would get, elf? What did you hope to gain from killing my son? Was this her plan all along? Train you up to kill my boy?"

Caden yanked, but he had her fast. Phantom hands clutched at her, Vaughan was on top of her, she couldn't breathe.

"No..." Not again. She groped blindly for her sword. She could hear yelling all around her, if only she had her mother’s knife, she had to get away. How could she be faster if she was held tight? She heard the draw of a blade.

"No!" She cried again; her voice magnified by the same shout from Alistair as he tried to get between them. A hot spurt of blood struck her cheek, burning like acid. Eyes tight shut, she turned her head. Uriens howl ceased all at once as his resistance snapped and Caden felt herself flying to the ground, landing hard on her back. Within seconds a hefty weight landed over her and she panicked in earnest, shoving at the body on top of her. It was lifted off her in one motion and a hand grasped her arm, hauling her to her feet, not letting go. Cadens head swam, but she felt Alistairs presence and that stopped her from bolting. She looked up into his angry face and then across the tent to see Teryn Loghain wiping his bloodied sword and sheathing it. Urien lay dead at his feet.

"Are you alright?" Alistair asked, releasing her arm as he saw her come back into focus.

"What...?" She croaked.

"Are you hurt, my liege?" Loghain asked of Cailan. The king stood with his clean blade still drawn.

"Is he dead?" Cailan asked firmly. One of his kings guard checked Urien over and confirmed his status. Cailan sighed. "A great shame. He was a good man. Well, usually. What were you thinking, Loghain?"

"I was thinking that he was a threat to everyone in this room, to my king no less." Loghain retorted mildly. "He was a danger and I took care of him."

Duncan had already re-sheathed his sword. "My apologies for this, your highness."

Cailan sighed and straightened up. "It can't be helped." He said regretfully. "It is done. Are you well, Warden Tabris?"

Caden started as he directed his attention to her. "I’m… sorry."

"It is done." Cailan said again. "Well, I think that brings this meeting to a close. You and Alistair had better be off while we sort this mess out."

Alistair didn't need to be told twice apparently. He tapped Cadens arm lightly and nodded to the exit. She followed him, numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I'm Still Here is by Sia, which I've borrowed for the chapter title. 
> 
> I couldn't not (almost) use the line "empty chairs at empty tables", so thanks to Les Mis for putting that in my head! 
> 
> I know in game the battle comes pretty much right after the Joining, but I wanted to slow down a little, give Caden some practise sparring with real people instead of whatever dummies she could fashion at the Alienage and also give her a terrifying blast from the past. That part was in large part thanks to my partner in crime, well, writing, IvyM, after a chat about what Urien Kendalls might make of Caden if he saw her given that he is known to be at Ostagar.


	12. Battlefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle falls

** Battlefield **

_I will be your sword & shield, your camouflage, and you will be mine_

 

Alistair led the way into the sunshine. It was such a sudden, strange change of circumstances to be out in the light and air after the dim, enclosed canvas war room. Alistair blinked in the light and looked back to make certain that Caden was still following. She was. Her eyes were glassy, her legs moving on their own accord it seemed as she placed one foot in front of the other, marching clumsily along behind him. Alistair slowed his gait to allow her to catch up. She walked on, not seeming to notice this. Alistairs stomach swooped. He had no idea what to do. He’d half expected Duncan to come along with them, to help him navigate this strange situation. A rush of panic set off a spark of anger. He had no idea what to do! _Duncan_ knew of the circumstances that had brought Caden to Ostagar, not him. He knew nothing of what had transpired with Caden back in Denerim, only that it would have led to her execution. Well, murdering an Arls son… that would do it. He glanced at Caden again. Had he not seen her fight earlier in the sparring arena he would never have believed it. She was so tiny, he felt that if he wanted to, he could have picked her up and carried her off with no more difficulty than it would take to carry a sack of potatoes. He reddened and looked away as his Chantry upbringing kicked in: not that he would _want_ to carry her off. He wasn’t safe from putting his foot in his mouth, even when he was thinking his stupid thoughts without speaking out loud.

But he _had_ seen her fight. How had Loghain put it? Like an alley cat. She fought to survive. Now he had a good idea as to why that was. What terrible things had occurred for her to wind up killing a man? He felt certain that there must have been extenuating circumstances. Yes, she could be unpleasant, but that didn’t make her a stone-cold murderer. And then there was the way she reacted to unexpected touches. With a start he realised how often he had seen this in their short time together. Alistair looked at her again, a long, searching look while she walked on blindly. “Caden, are you alright?” he asked softly, wondering if this time she would answer him. His hand twitched, wanting to reach over and place his hand on her arm, but he held back. “Caden?”

She gave no sign that she had heard him and he stopped, watching her stumble onwards. With a sudden change of direction, she veered down an alley between tents and out of sight. Alistair started towards her and heard the sounds of retching. He stopped. Waited.

She re-appeared, wiping her mouth, but looking more present. She was pale and shaky, but she was back.

“Are you…?”

“I…” she began, voice hoarse. “Please don’t ask me.”

“Alright,” Alistair nodded. He didn’t know where to begin anyway, and did he even want to know? She gave him an out and he took it gratefully. “What would you like to do?”

“Not be here.” She said softly.

Alistair chewed thoughtfully on his lip for a moment or two. “I have an idea. Come on.”

 

*

 

“Thank you for taking me to find this,” Caden said, holding up the flower. It really did smell like honey. It was the first time she’d spoken since Alistair had led them to the gates and out into the Wild, out of the oppressive fortress, placing much needed distance between her and her ghosts. She was pathetically grateful that he had let them co-exist in silence, him speaking only to ask what direction they needed to go in next. And it was he who had spotted the flower. She was touched that he had remembered.

Alistair sheathed his sword. “That’s not entirely why we’re out here.” He reminded her, kicking over the crumpled body of the genlock. “So, how was it? Sensing them?”

Caden shuddered reflexively. If Alistair beside her felt like morning sun streaming through a window, the now expired darkspawn had felt like creeping darkness. Thick, oozing horror, the nightmare that slid over the mind and seeped into every crevice. Like never being happy again, a deep, dark pit of despair. “I felt them.” She said finally. “I guess that’s something.”

This was good. This was better. Talking about the darkspawn, about the task they were completing, was safe. She was still struggling to look him in the eye, her reminder of the Alienage too fresh in her mind to fully relax around a human, even this one who was, she reflected, better than most.

Alistair was looking at her with sympathy. “You’ll always be able to feel them without trying, but it’s not always precise like that. It’s like… when you know you’ve forgotten something, but you can’t remember what so you put it out of your mind. “You’ll get better at tracking them with practise.”

Caden nodded to the corpses at their feet as a small glimmer of irritation blossomed. The feeling was oddly comforting, like re-treading old ground. “I found _them_ , didn’t I? Or,” she narrowed her eyes. “Did you set me up to ‘find’ them? You thought I might need an easy win after the duelling today.” If she never mentioned Urien in the tent, maybe it never happened. She could do this. Irritation and rudeness. She could cope with those. Her mouth quirked. “Oh wait, I kicked your arse earlier, so it’s not me needing an easy win.”

She watched Alistair’s face slowly change as he took his time figuring out that she was joking. Almost. “That was a low blow.” He said. “Which you apparently are very good at.”

Now there was no denying her smirk. “Yeah, well, I’m mad at you.” She said without fire. “You never once said anything about the Joining, nothing real. You let us go in blind.” Her voice rose an octave as the emotion she was trying to hold back crept in. “The others died.”

“I know.” Alistair said softly. “And for what it’s worth I’m very sorry they died.” His hand went to his belt pouch. “I still have the pendant, if you want it. We call it Warden’s Oath.”

Caden looked down. “Oh. How does it go again?”

Alistair started walking and Caden fell in step once more. As they went, he began to recite. “ _In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In Death, Sacrifice._ ”

“It’s evocative, I suppose.” Caden sighed. They walked quietly onwards, back towards the gates. After a while Caden stopped and held out her hand. “Alright. I’ll take it. They deserve to be remembered.”

Alistair dug for the necklace and dropped the amulet into her open palm. He set the chain gently into her gloved hand. “You know, I like you better when it’s just us two. You seem more agreeable away from crowds.”

“Doesn’t mean I like you,” Caden retorted. Alistair laughed, even though it wasn’t clear if she was joking or not.

Leaves rustled nearby. Twigs snapped. Thundering feet were coming their way. Both Wardens looked up, frozen, listening. Caden reached out with her mind, feeling for that horrible sense of darkness, but none was forthcoming. “Not darkspawn.” Caden asserted. Alistair nodded.

“Nor Wardens.” Alistair said. “So, it’s… something else.”

“Helpful.” She griped, tucking away the pendant and drawing her blades. Alistair was ready nearby.

The bushes parted, from the shadows of the trees came a trio of scouts in the colours of Denerim. “Hold there, what’s going on?” Alistair called when he caught sight of their armour, denoting them as friends.

“The horde, Ser,” the first one panted. One of his friends had spun to face the direction they had come from and was holding a notched arrow; ready should an enemy appear. The third was bent double, resting her hands on her knees, gulping in large breaths. “It’s coming.”

“Coming?” Caden asked. “We know that much.” Wasn’t that the whole point of barricading themselves in this fortress?

“But soon.” He said urgently. “It’s bigger and it’s quicker than we thought. It’s been coming, like a slow tide. Well, the tides changed.”

“We have to get to camp and warn them all.” The woman said, now having caught her breath enough that she could speak. She straightened up. “Will you come with us, Wardens? Help us from being surprised by any of their hunters?”

“Of course,” Alistair said, sheathing his sword again. Caden hesitated, but then followed suit. Her heart was racing, the adrenaline pumping. What did this mean? Alistair caught her gaze. He looked serious. “Seems like the battle may have found us sooner than anticipated. You might have to practise warfare on the job after all.”

“Oh,” Caden said as they started to jog back towards camp. Well, she had hoped for a distraction from this afternoon’s dramatics, hadn’t she? “Great.”

 

*

 

“Duncan!” Alistairs shout rang through the camp. Lyra and Viktur looked up, their attention firmly on their Warden-Brother. “Where’s the commander?”

“With the king,” Viktur replied.

“What’s going on?” Lyra asked. She looked from Alistair to Caden, who wasn’t sure what to say. They were still accompanying the scouts they had met in the Wilds though they paused to speak to the Wardens and Lyra’s gaze slid to them.

“News from the Wilds.” Alistair replied. “We’re heading to tell Duncan now; if he’s with the king that’s convenient.” Lyra and Viktur nodded and put away their things, their faces stern.

Alistair started on, but stopped when he realised Caden was still standing. “Caden?”

“You go on ahead,” she said hurriedly. “I need to get this flower to Farald anyway, so…” She reached into her pouch for the flora in question as if to prove her point. The scouts were already moving on, but Alistair hesitated to follow them. Instead he nodded.

“You’re right, that is important.” He said. Caden met his gaze and tried to play it cool. “No need for both of us to go. I’ll find you here, afterwards.”

 

*

 

The small group carried on through the camp towards the Kings war tent and Alistair paused to explain to the guards that they needed to let them in. The guards looked from the Warden to the scouts and grimly stood aside.

The grouping was the same as usual; King Cailan, Teryn Loghain, Warden-Commander Duncan, though now there was additionally a tall man in mage robes and another woman in Chantry garb.

“Yes?” Cailan asked as the group entered, making the space feel very tight.

The lead scout stepped forward and bowed. “Your highness, we have news of grave importance from the Wilds. The horde has turned; it’s heading straight for us. It’s bigger and faster than we had previously thought.”

Alistair watched the faces of the assembled as they took in this news. Each one took on a grim façade, though Cailan was the first to recover, standing straight and clapping his hands together. “Well, we knew this was coming. Sooner than we thought, but even so.”

“How long before they reach us?” Loghain asked.

“Hard to say exactly,” the woman scout advised. “I would imagine by nightfall we should see the first of the forward army.”

A sombre silence fell. They would be fighting in the dark, in a few hours’ time. This was not the most ideal circumstance and Alistair felt a shudder run through the tent as they all took it in.

“That is dire news indeed.” Duncan said.

“We’re prepared.” Cailan said, the voice of reason, though Alistair doubted that reason was where this was truly coming from. Far be it for him to judge the king, but he found Cailans attitude towards the Blight to be downright foolhardy. “We have our plans; we’ve been over them countless times.” He looked around the room. “The day of glory is upon us. The Blight stops here. Tonight.”

They began to talk about the plans again, each member chiming in when their moment came up. The Revered Mother refused to entertain the idea of the mages lighting a beacon, which would signal part of the army to come at the horde from behind.

"I will lead the charge just as soon as I see the lit beacon." Loghain instructed. “I will station a small score of men who will get the beacon lit at the right time.” Cailan paused, his handsome face mottling with a frown.

"Right...well, as it’s such an important job, I think we should send our best," Cailans gaze flickered to Duncan's impassive face and then to Alistair. "I want you and Warden Tabris to take this duty. It is not difficult, but it is vital."

Alistair felt his throat prickle with the fierce retort he wanted to say and instead forced himself to speak evenly. "Your Highness, surely if it is that simple, it would only take one of us? I feel I would be better suited to fighting alongside the Wardens in the battle."

“No,” Cailan replied, looking briefly to Alistair and back down to the table. “I’d rather the two of you handled this. I know you will watch each other’s backs should there be any trouble. There’s safety in numbers and greater assurance that one of you will get the job done.”

“Of course,” Alistair said thickly, turning to leave.

“Alistair?” He looked back at his king. “May the Maker watch over you.”

“And you as well.”

 

*

 

Farald had been pleased that she had remembered the task and that she had successfully retrieved the correct blossom. She warned him that the battle would be upon them sooner than expected and he got to work at once fixing the draft for the mabari. Caden gave her a last look and turned to get back to the Wardens camp.

As she drew closer, she heard a raised voice and was shocked to identify it as Alistairs.  

“It’s not right, Duncan, I won’t stand for it!”

Caden flinched as Alistair’s tone rose. His voice was so filled with disgust, she shrank back and stayed out of sight for a moment. It didn’t seem like something she wanted to intrude upon. Not yet.

Duncan was calm in the face of this outburst.

“Alistair, I understand you are upset,” he said calmly, evenly. "But this order comes from the king himself. There is no getting around that fact."

"I know that," Alistair began pacing back and forth. Caden could see him moving back and forth, every footfall hard, gesturing with his hands. She was aware that she didn’t know him well, but this seemed out of character for the man she was getting to know. His anger was loud and chaotic. "I'm not some dullard. I know the order came from the king and I know we can't change it."

As he sniped Caden could hear the fight drain from him slowly. He started to lower his voice to a more reasonable tone. "I should be with you in the battle, Duncan, not running errands. I should be with you all."

Caden risked a glance at him. He looked wretched now, not angry. She had no idea what could have gotten to him to rile him up so much. What kind of errands was he talking about? Surely there wasn’t time to get much done before the fight.

“Alistair, lighting the beacon is the key to the whole battle.” Duncan said, stepping towards Alistair and placing both hands on his shoulders. The older man looked kindly into his younger charges face. “And as the Junior Wardens you are ideally suited to this task. There’s nothing to stop you from joining the battle once your task is complete.”

Caden stayed as still as possible, listening. So, this pertained to her as well? She was more junior than Alistair; was that what was concerning him? Did he think this was beneath him, babysitting her?

“This is because…” Alistair said quietly, trailing off. Caden saw him sigh and lower his head, mumbling into his chest. She couldn’t make out what he was saying. At any rate, she had had enough of hiding in the shadows and if this was a task that she needed to prepare for she felt she had better hear it. She took a deep breath then strode towards them where they stood. Alistair looked up and blanched at seeing her.

“Caden, you’re back,” he said, clearly flummoxed, glancing at Duncan with a frown. Caden set her mouth into a line and drew up to them. She knew she could have set his mind at ease, let him know she hadn’t heard their chat, but let him sweat, she decided. If he was tired of minding her then she wasn’t going to rush to make him feel better. She didn’t ask for this either. “How’s the mabari?”

“Fine, hopefully.” Caden replied. “So, what’s the plan?”

 

*

 

_Run_.

Cadens lungs were burning, her legs pounding each step on the stones as she pelted down the bridge, following Alistair.

"Come on," Alistair shouted over his shoulder. From their point on the bridge, high above the battlefield they could see the initial clash of armies and hear the clatter of metal and the cries of anger and pain. "We have to get to the beacon." Caden set her mouth into a thin line trying to block out the distracting sounds and stench of death that floated up towards them.

They didn't look down, they just ran, heedless of the rocks that were being hurled up at the bridge to counteract the ballista's firing heavy wooden spikes down below. One rock crashed into the wooden contraption sending metal joints and deadly splinters of wood everywhere. Caden threw herself to the ground instinctively, holding her arms over her head, making herself as small as physically possible. When the shower of debris ended, she scrambled to her feet. In front of her lay the body of a knight whose body was punctured with splinters across his chest. Blood spurted from each wound. Caden ran around him and tried to forget the look on his frozen face.

A fireball burst before her, enveloping a soldier in front of her who screeched in agony and she skidded to a halt, throwing up her hands to shield her face. The fire scorched her arms until Alistair grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards, away from the flames. The smell of burning flesh hit her nostrils making Caden sob out loud. She turned and retched.  _Oh Andraste, I can't take this, someone get me out of here, I'm not a knight, I'm just a girl, help me, please!_  Her mind was filled with desperation. Alistair clasped her arms and steadied her on her feet, bringing their faces close together.

"Caden, come on!" he shouted, his voice drowning out the voices in her head. "No time for this. We have to reach the beacon!"

Caden nodded dumbly, swallowed her tears and they ran.

 

_Run_.

The tower. There it was, thank the Maker. Cadens knees were shaking, her systems overloaded with fear and adrenaline and nowhere for it to go. She ran behind Alistair, and nearly slammed against his back when he suddenly stopped. She moved around him. Was it fighting time now? The sick feeling of something bad was eating away at her.

“What’s going on?” Alistair was calling to a soldier running towards them.

“Are you Grey Wardens?” the soldier asked.

“We are, what’s going on?” Alistair pressed.

“The tower…” the soldier looked over his shoulder. A woman in robes wove some magic and cast a burning spell at two darkspawn, wreathing them in flames. Caden gasped. She hadn’t ever seen magic in action and then there was the fact that the darkspawn were there, in camp, not out on the battlefield where they were supposed to be. “It’s fucking full of darkspawn.”

“What?” Caden blanched as she heard the waiver in Alistair’s voice, but then it was gone, replaced by determination. “We have to get inside, darkspawn or no.”

“Are you mad, Ser?” the soldier cried. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“We have a job to do. You can run or you can stay and help.” Alistair ordered. Caden glanced up at him. His eyes were stern and focused. How he must have hated to be lumbered with her, she thought. Her knees were shaking, her breath short. She was terrified. How was he able to concentrate on anything besides fear?

The mage hurried over to them. “I’ll join you.” She said.

“Ah, fuck.” The soldier said, wiping his wrist across his mouth, smearing a gash of red as he did so. “Fine.”

Alistair turned back to Caden, his eyes softening only slightly. “Are you alright?” He murmured, mindful not to let their new companions overhear. Caden nodded shakily. “Sure?”

“Let’s get this over with,” Caden said in a voice no higher than a whisper. Alistair nodded.

“Let’s go.”

 

_Run_.

Her blood sang. Darkspawn ichor flowed. Cadens blades were coated in the mess, the smell. The sensation she had felt in the wilds, the feeling of being close to the horde was nothing compared to this. This was an onslaught, this was everywhere. The tower was heaving with darkspawn, facing off against two Junior Wardens, a soldier and a mage. Caden was sure it would never end. This was it, this was death, and she was charging towards it over and over again.

They made their way up the tower, Alistair leading the way by virtue of his longer stride, flanked by the soldier; Caden and the mage bringing up the rear. Having never seen a mage in action, Caden couldn’t help but wonder how she’d ever done without the aid of magic. She wished she had time to stop and watch the primal forces the mage commanded, watch the way she spoke some words and suddenly she was inside the genlock and hurlocks heads, driving them to insanity long enough for Caden to slash their throats. It was barbaric and beautiful.

Alistair was becoming more and more agitated as they climbed higher, certain that they would miss their signal. Caden fed off his panic and used it to fuel her steps.

“Up here,” Alistair directed them, heading through a doorway at the top. Then, “Maker’s Breath!” he dove to one side. The others hesitated, but Caden shoved past them both.

“Alistair!” She cried, entering the room at a leap and casting her gaze around for her fellow Warden. She saw him getting to his feet. He sighted on her, then his eyes rose and he yelled for her to look out. She barely had time to turn before a vast clawed hand swiped down at her. She yelped and dropped to a roll, feeling the scratch of one claw scrape against the back of her armour.

“Caden!” Alistair bound forward and brought his sword down hard on the beasts arm. It howled as Caden scrambled up.

“What is that thing?” Caden panted.

“Ogre.” Alistair replied bitterly.

It was tall and wide, pale grey skinned, with huge hands and wickedly curved horns. Its mouth was filled with rows and rows of sharp teeth and when it roared the stained glass in the windows shook. Caden took a deep breath. _You have to be faster._ She ran.

Treading a nimble path around the beast was easy enough as the other three distracted the creature with slices and spells. Caden swung her blades in unison, sweeping them in an outward motion and slicing at the ogre’s ankles. She was going for tendons, just as she’d practised, but the skin on the thing was too damn thick. Her blades barely dug in. She hissed a curse and tried again, this time stabbing at the back of the knee. Anything to make it fall. It raised one leg and Caden watched helplessly as it kicked behind itself, catching her in the chest and pelting her backwards. She felt her breath shoot from her mouth and she landed hard on the floor, rolling once. She gasped for breath, thankful that she hadn’t loosened her grip on the blades. The creature was turning, seeing a fallen foe and it thundered over to her as she tried to push up from the ground. Her chest hurt; each breath felt like a stab wound. She just wanted to lie down. A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see the underside of the ogre’s foot lifting over her body. She didn’t think. She rolled onto her back and thrust upwards, first one sword, then the other. The foot was already lowering onto her fast, but that only helped to penetrate through the tough sole of the foot and into tender flesh. The ogre bellowed in pain, pulling back it’s foot, taking the swords with him. Empty handed, but alive, Caden got to her feet, pushing through the pain.

The ogre stumbled back against the wall, tugging with its stubby fingers at the swords, loosing them one after the other and tossing them aside. Caden ran to follow their trajectory, struggling for breath. She felt a blast of lightning shoot past her, making her skin tingle and her hair rise from its tight bun, but it stopped the ogre against the wall long enough for Caden to retrieve her swords and turn to get back into the fight. Alistair advanced on the ogre, shield up to deflect a rock the ogre tore from the wall and flung at him. Caden ran, placing herself between the ogre and Alistair, going for the knees on the thing. The leathery hide proved too tough to pierce once again and this time it reached down with one hand and Caden suddenly felt the floor disappear beneath her. She rose through the air, her chest compressed by one thumb. She heard her name below her. Then a grunt and a bash and the ogre was staggered, dropping her. Her ankle twisted and agony shot up her leg. She winced, gritting her teeth against a scream.

The ogre lumbered over to her, roaring again and Caden was enclosed in hot, damp breath that smelled of fresh blood. She turned her head and shut her eyes reflexively, but no sooner had it paused for breath did she begin running around it, ankle protesting with each step. It made to follow her but she was small and nimble and it was giant and lumbering. Suddenly ice crystals formed over its rock like skin as the mage hit it with a spell. Alistair leapt forward and using his shield as a blunt weapon he bashed the ogre about the head. It rocked backwards, but did not fall. The ice began to crack as the potency of the spell wore off and the beast burst out of the icy casing. The mage was busy muttering a new incantation, so Caden ran in front of the ogre again to draw on his attention. It bellowed again and as it raised its arms to pound down onto her, she jumped forward between its legs and rolled out from under them behind it. It turned sluggishly, confused by her quick stepping and once again Alistair threw his weight behind his shield to whack the ogre in the side. It stumbled again and threw back its arms to right itself against the wall, and Caden used this moment to take a running leap up at it. The mage finished the recitation and power exploded from her staff, encircling Cadens blades in fiercely burning fire that felt cool to her. The ogre rested, momentarily stunned against the wall and Caden dove for its chest, her enchanted blades finally digging through its skin as though it were made of butter. She found herself crouching on his body, her swords sunk into its chest up to the hilts and it cried out in pain. Not stopping to catch her breath, she pulled free one sword, tacky with ogre blood and swiped it across the width of its throat. More blood gushed forth from this wound and the ogre ceased to yell. He started to fall, the light fading from its large eyes.

She yanked out her other blade and jumped backwards off its chest where she collided backside first with Alistair. They both hit the ground hard, Caden yelping with the pain from her ankle and ribs, and for a moment were both winded. Caden rolled off Alistair and swallowed in huge gulps of air, then coughed and retched as she inhaled ogre blood with it.

"Sorry," she grunted as he gasped for breath himself.

"It's alright," he said, thinly. "My own fault for deciding you might need catching."

He got to his feet and offered her a hand, which she took. Her grip was slippery, but sure and he was able to haul her to her feet.

"The beacon is over here," Alistair said leading the way. "We've surely missed the signal, but we have to light it anyway. I don't want Duncan or Cailan to go without their back-up any longer."

The kings words came back to her and Caden looked up at Alistair. “Wardens see tasks through to completion.” Alistair nodded grimly. "But, I'm soaked," Caden continued regretfully gesturing to her blood drenched body as she dripped onto the stone floor. "Can you...?"

The mage hurried forward. "If I may?" Alistair stepped aside and the mage performed some quick finger work over the paraffin drenched wood and quickly the fire caught. The beacon took only a moment to gain intensity and the three stepped back.

"There, it is done." Alistair said with relief. Caden turned from the flames and cast her eyes around the room. The ogres body was slumped against the wall in a pool of blood and on the other side of the room was the soldier who had accompanied them bravely. She limped over to him; she hadn’t seen him fall. Her focus had been on the ogre and her pain, mostly. She really did have something to learn about teamwork, she reflected grimly, crouching down, lightly closing his eyes and sending out a thought of gratitude to him wherever he now was. She turned her head and saw Alistair watching. He briefly inclined his head in reverence to what she was doing and gave her a small smile. She found herself returning it without thinking.

“What now?” Caden asked.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Alistair started, heading over to her, sheathing his sword as he went.

The mage suddenly gave a cry of alarm and both Wardens looked over startled. The mage had an arrow through her throat and even before Caden could fully rise, another pierced the mages chest and she fell to the ground. “Wha—?”

Alistair reacted, diving before Caden, his shield up to protect them both as more darkspawn poured into the room. Caden gripped her blades. “There are too many.” Alistair said. His face was inches from hers. Caden nodded. There was only one option.

“Run.” She ordered him. Then she forced herself to run, ignoring the ankle, heedless of her thin breaths, she bolted across the room, seeking to draw their attention to her, giving the one of them with a shield a chance to escape. She heard arrows whistle through the air, felt one nick her shoulder, but she sped on, digging her swords into the first two that she reached. They fell, but there were far too many more coming. She spun, blades out, hoping to take some down as they tried to get to her. She heard Alistair shout her name. Why wasn’t he doing what she said? Caden stopped, bodies at her feet and parried a swing. She turned her head slightly to yell to Alistair: “ _Run_!”

A blade thrust through her shoulder from behind, spurting her own blood across the room. Caden gasped, looking down at the metal protruding through her flesh. Another shearing pain and she had another blade from behind, this one lower, through her side. The air rushed out of her lungs and she fell to her knees. She had faced it, danced with it, dodged it, but here it was. Death. The darkspawn who got her yanked his blades free. She grunted with the new pain, turning to look upon the face of the thing that killed her. It didn’t care to wait, it was already heading away from her, his task complete.

At least she took some down with her, she thought as she fell forward. Her name rent the air. A scream of pain. A thud.

The darkspawn were leaving. To join the battle or to flee, she never knew. Caden was on her knees, bleeding. Her hands were going numb. Metal clanged. Her hands were empty. She turned her head, surprised at how little that hurt. She could see Alistair crawling towards her, leaving a trail of red in his wake, three arrows piercing his back.

“Are we dying?” she asked. The ground smacked into her and she was on her side. She could still see Alistair dragging himself, why weren’t his legs working? “I’m sorry.”

“Caden…” Alistair coughed, blood spraying from his lips. She could see his teeth, they were stained red.

Caden blinked. It was a long blink, almost like falling asleep, but her eyes did open after a short while. The smell of death was all around the chamber. She looked at Alistair. He was lying still, one arm outstretched to her. His eyes were closed. _Oh no…_

Caden’s head was spinning as she tried to slither across the floor to him. She couldn’t feel her legs now. One arm in front of the other, she had to reach him. She blinked and now it was Nelaros on the ground in a pool of blood. _Not again_ … Another blink and Alistair was back. She tried to say his name, but no sound came out. She heard a noise. More darkspawn? Everything was blackness, she couldn’t feel out the horde anymore. Or perhaps she was _in_ the horde, drowning in darkness. They wouldn’t take him, too. With her final moments of strength, she lay herself over Alistairs body. He had shielded her. She would shield him.

The darkness fell and Caden closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Battlefield which I used for my chapter title is by SVRCINA. It's what gave me the idea to have both Wardens use what they had to shield the others; Alistair with his actual shield, Caden with her body. Imminent death is the only thing that cuts through her hatred of touching shems! 
> 
> I've been dividing the story into parts, though will keep it all in this fic, but this is the final chapter of Part 1. Part 2 begins next week in the Wilds.


	13. Ache

**PART TWO - The Wilds and Lothering **

** _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

 

  **Ache**

_Don't know how much my heart can take_

 

A rush of air shot down into her lungs as Caden sat up too fast causing her head to spin. She held herself up, braced against her arms and rode out the waves until she could start to crack open her eyelids. It wasn’t bright, exactly, but even the dim light burned her. The world stopped lurching. Caden opened her eyes fully and took in the strange sight before her.

Minutes ago, she had been facing darkspawn and blood and death.

Now she was sat on a lumpy bed gazing around a small wooden hut. She blinked, trying to force her vision to clear and show her the truth of where she was, but nothing changed. Caden winced as she pushed up into a full sitting position. Her chest was sore, her shoulder ached, but it was bearable. She slowly swung her legs out from under the blankets and carefully found the floor with her bare toes. Caden stood, warily. Her body was protesting, but weakly. Quietly enough that she could stand.

The bed was in a small space where the sides of the roof met. There was an assortment of things scattered about the place, on the floor, along the walls, even in the roof. At the foot of the bed was a trunk with some extra blankets folded on top. Sweet smelling flowers hung from the rafters, dried out.

Caden took a step and the world stayed on one level. So far, so good.

There were stranger things. Also hanging from the wooden rafters was a long perfectly intact piece of snakeskin. There were reed baskets stored in the beams and more piled on the floor. Peering into one Caden could see a collection of eggs, all varying sizes and colours. She turned and felt bones brush her face. Flinching she followed the sight to dangling skulls, strung through with string. Some with beaks, others without. Birds and rodents, she guessed.

Caden found a ladder and touched her hand to the cool, smooth wood. Could she brave the climb down? Her head was no longer swimming, but she felt light, like she hadn’t eaten for days. She knew that feeling well and for a moment she was back at the Alienage in the darkest, coldest winter weeks. Weeks when food was so scarce that getting one meal a day was considered a good day. Caden shook her head. She wasn’t at the Alienage. She wasn’t at Ostagar. So, where was she?

She turned and slowly reached her foot to the first rung, focusing intently on the climb. One rung after another and after a short while she was on the floor. It was warmer here, a crackling fire on one wall with something delicious bubbling in a pot hanging over the flames. Caden lurched for the smell, any questions about her location forgotten. There were things hanging here, too, but things like wild garlic and familiar smelling herbs. A rabbit swayed gently by its legs. Caden reached the pot and she stretched her hand towards the lid. One touch and she yelped, sticking her fingers into her mouth.

“Do be careful; I spent many hours stitching your body back together.” Came a voice from behind her. “I would hate to see it ruined again so quickly.”

Caden turned, her loose cornsilk hair brushing over her shoulder. A woman stood behind her, familiar. “Morrigan?”

"Tis I." Morrigan replied. "I am glad to hear that you have not forgotten. How do you feel?"

“Thirsty,” Caden croaked. Morrigan wordlessly busied herself with pouring water into a clay cup and then she placed it on the table. Caden made a beeline for it at once, gulping down the cool liquid in three swallows. Morrigan watched her set down the cup and then refilled it without being asked. Caden finished the second cup and offered a shaky smile. “Thank you.”

“Twas nothing.” Morrigan said dismissively. “Mother wanted me to practise my healing magic and you were there, badly broken, so it worked out. Truthfully, I do not think she believed you would make it through, otherwise it’s likely she would have worked on you herself. Still, here you are.”

“Thank you,” Caden said again, too hungry to focus on the dark side of those words. “I mean it. Thank you for saving my life.” Despite her weariness, her hunger, her aches and pains, she forced as much sincerity into her words and that ferocity gave Morrigan pause.

“I… you are welcome.” Morrigan replied, not sounding as though gratitude was something she was used to hearing.

Caden turned back to the pot. “It smells good.”

“It is almost ready.” Morrigan said. “Why don’t you sit down.”

Caden almost fell into a seat beside her at the command. She didn’t know how long she’d been sleeping but she felt more exhausted than ever. “How long was I…?”

“You slept for almost a week.” Morrigan said from the pot. Caden watched her use a cloth to lift the lid, spilling wonderful smelling steam into the room. She lifted a wooden spoon and gave the food a stir.

“Is this your home?” Caden asked.

“It is.” Morrigan said, not turning around. “The pot in the centre of the table. Eat some.”

Caden frowned, but turned to look on the table. There was indeed a clay dish with a lid sitting before her. She reached for it and slid the lid off, revealing a loaf of dark bread. Mouth-watering, Caden pulled off a piece and stuffed it into her mouth. Though the bread was not what she was used to, with a much chewier texture, Caden could taste some familiar spice. Not familiar from the Alienage. More recently familiar. She remembered the small loaf Alistair had—

“Where’s Alistair?” Caden started, choking slightly on her mouthful and easing it down with water. “Is he… he’s not…?” He wasn’t moving the last time she saw him.

“He is better than you,” Morrigan said bluntly. She reached for some bowls made of the same clay and started ladling stew into each one in turn. She nudged the first bowl towards Caden along with an uneven spoon. Caden picked it up, but in spite of her roaring stomach, she did not eat as she waited for more information. Morrigan came to the table and huffed. “Mother tended to him. A few arrow wounds, but mother is well versed in the ailments of man and how best to treat them. Your injuries were far more severe.” She gestured with her spoon. “Just take a look.”

At this point Caden became aware of just how little she was wearing. A light cotton shirt covered her torso, the hemline just skimming her thighs. Her pale legs were covered in bruises, but nothing too bad. She tugged at the neckline and peered down at herself through the gap. Where the daggers had cut through her there were jagged starbursts of red. The wounds were a week old and the surrounding area was slightly swollen, but they looked like the deep cuts through her body been closed for a while, scabs fading. On her other side was a large blue bruise rising and falling over her ribs. No wonder she was sore. She dropped the shirt and looked up to find Morrigan observing her.

“You see?” the witch said.

“You said you practised healing magic on me?” Caden asked. Morrigan nodded, blowing gently on her spoonful of stew. “I’ve never had anything like that before.”

“Well, there is a first time for everything I suppose.” Morrigan replied drily.

Caden gripped her spoon tightly. “But Alistair?”

“Not as bad,” Morrigan repeated. She started speaking in a slow voice, pausing between each word as if Caden was stupid. “His wounds were fewer, mother is better at fixing people, eat some food.”

“But where is he?”

“Out.” Morrigan snapped, her patience fraying like old rope. “He recovered in a few days, but waiting for you to wake up was apparently too dull for him, so he started spending his days out. Hunting mostly. I expect he and mother will both be back soon. Now eat and be quiet.”

Caden nodded, cowed. She lifted her spoon and started feeding herself. She didn’t recognise half the ingredients in the bowl, not the meat, not the vegetables, but it was the nicest thing she’d ever eaten and she polished off her bowl, scraping the morsels of broth from the sides with a piece of bread long before Morrigan was done. The witch smirked and nodded to the pot, indicating that Caden should help herself to another portion. It was an easy to accept invitation; Caden stood and went to the pot, remembering how Morrigan had used the cloth to protect her hands and she carefully dished up some more, replacing the lid.

The door opened and her name made her startle: “Caden!”

Caden turned, gripping the bowl tightly. Alistair was standing inside the hut, shadowed by the daylight streaming in around him, until he stepped in further and let the door close behind him. Caden ran her eyes over him, checking that he was indeed well enough to be traipsing through the countryside, not that she would know better. He was dressed in unfamiliar clothes, a shirt not unlike the one she wore, trousers and boots, with sections of leather armour strapped over his arms and legs and a chest. It was all piecemeal, none of it appearing to be part of one set, but it clearly got whatever job done that he needed it for. He lowered a sack to the ground, the lumps inside indictive of a successful hunt she supposed. His eyes were wide, taking her in, and she could see stubble across his jaw and chin that she had never seen before. A healing cut stretched along his cheek starting by his ear down to his mouth. Caden felt a rush of warmth at the sight of him, in part due to the sensation of feeling another Grey Warden nearby. That heat and light that surrounded him in her mind.

“Alistair,” she replied, her brain too fuzzy to form any more words. But she felt glad at the sight of him.

He suddenly blanched and averted his gaze. Caden frowned, then remembered that standing by the pot she was half naked before him. “Oh!” she said, still holding the bowl that was now warming her fingers to an uncomfortable level. “Er…”

“Trunk behind you,” Morrigan said, not looking up from her bowl. Caden dithered a moment, before darting to the table to set her bowl down, then back to the trunk Morrigan had suggested. Inside were breeches and she grabbed one pair and jerked them on. They were clearly made for someone much bigger, but they covered her up and she held them to her, tugging the laces at the front as tightly as they would go. She returned to the table and sat.

Alistair looked momentarily sheepish, but stepping towards the table and sitting down beside her, his expression changed to something more astonished. “I thought you were dead.”

Caden could see up close how haunted his gaze was. “I thought the same of you.” She said quietly. “You weren’t moving.”

“I can’t believe you survived,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. He shook his head to show his disbelief. Then his eyes narrowed with focus. “You told me to run. Why did you do that?”

“You had a shield,” Caden said as if it were obvious. There was an edge to Alistairs voice that unnerved her. “You had a chance to escape, I thought if I drew their attention, you—”

“Did someone tell you to do that?” He interrupted, sharply. “Did someone tell you to throw your life away for mine?”

He was definitely angry. Caden shrank back in her chair, noting that Morrigan was suddenly very interested in their discussion. “No,” Caden said. Alistair eyed her suspiciously. “Alistair, _no_. I just thought you could get away if I got you some space to escape.”

Alistair didn’t look wholly convinced, but backed down, his face relaxing from the hardness it had taken on for his questions. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well. Not since Ostagar.”

“What happened?” Caden asked. Alistair turned his hooded gaze back to her.

“Loghain.” He said. “He never led his charge. Left the soldiers on the field utterly defenceless.”

Caden’s mouth was a round O of shock. “What are you talking about? We lost?”

“We never had a chance.” Alistair said bitterly. “It didn’t matter that we got the beacon lit, Loghain let our armies be overwhelmed by the horde. They—” his breath hitched suddenly. “They all died.”

Caden couldn’t make sense of it in her mind. Everyone? “Who?” she asked, stupidly. Alistair looked annoyed again.

“ _Everyone_ , Caden. Maker’s Breath, do you want a list?” he snarled. “Everyone. All the Wardens besides us, which means Duncan. Everyone in the king’s army, including Cailan. We have no leader anymore, not the Wardens, not Ferelden. And the darkspawn are just going to keep coming, sweeping across the land, killing everyone in their way and we have no way to stop any of it. We’ve lost.”

“My, what a dour assessment.” Caden looked over to the door again, her unexpected tears spilling over her lids with the movement. She hastily wiped them aside. Morrigans mother strode into the room and helped herself to some stew. “Might as well give up now. I almost wish I hadn’t bothered retrieving you both from that tower.”

Caden glanced at Alistair who was flushing red. “I’m sorry,” he said, hollow. “It’s hard to look at that as a mercy given our circumstances. I spoke the truth; we’re out of leaders. What are we to do now?”

Morrigans mother sat down at the table and started eating, ignoring Alistair’s questions. She gave her daughter a look and with a sigh Morrigan stood and portioned out some stew for Alistair, shoving it roughly across the table at him and tossing him a spoon. Caden tried to eat another mouthful, but her stomach turned over at the smell. She set her spoon down. “Thank you for saving us…?”

“Call me Flemeth.”

That name meant nothing to Caden but Alistair sucked in a shocked breath beside her. Caden pressed on. “Where are the darkspawn now?”

“The majority are still at Ostagar.”

“What are they doing there?”

“Do you really want to know?” Flemeth asked giving Caden a long look. 

Caden replied “yes” at the same time as Alistairs “no”. Flemeth glanced from one to the other and set her gaze on Caden. Alistair pushed up from the table and moved away as she answered.

“Feasting.”

Alistair covered his face with one hand, making a noise of quiet anguish. Caden took in the one-word answer combined with Alistair’s reaction. Feasting on what would have been her next question, but she felt it best to stay silent on this one. Besides, it struck her suddenly, she knew what they were feasting on. “Oh my…” she said softly, head down.

“They’ll be travelling on soon enough,” Flemeth said. “When they are sated.”

Caden felt her jaw constrict. Was Alistair right? Was there really nothing they could do? “Where will they go?”

Flemeth made no move to answer her, helping herself to some bread instead. Morrigan stood, gathering her bowl and spoon and taking them to a wash basin. Alistair turned and Caden looked up to him.

“Can’t say for sure,” he said sitting back down and half-heartedly sliding his spoon through the stew. “There’s a few places north of here that seem likely.”

“Morrigan.” Flemeth said. Caden didn’t understand, but Morrigan clearly did; sighing loudly again and heading to a basket filled with scrolls, tossing one onto the table. Flemeth pointed with her spoon. “Map.”

Alistair pushed his bowl aside, unfurling the parchment. Caden peered down. “Is that all of Ferelden?” She asked. Alistair nodded. “It’s big. Where’s Denerim?”

Alistair weighted each corner down with the items on the table and then pointed to a point at the far right of the paper. Caden gazed down at it, seeing the small script now and managing to decipher to tight cursive as Denerim. Her home. “Where are we?”

Alistair patiently traced his finger across the map from the capital all the way down to the bottom of the parchment, almost in the centre. Cadens eyes widened as she took in the distance. He wasn’t pointing to a specific town or fort now, though Caden could see a marker for Ostagar above where he was pointing. “I guess your home isn’t on the maps?” Caden asked of Morrigan and Flemeth.

“Indeed it is not.” Morrigan sniffed. Caden peered down at the lines and drawings. She tapped her index finger against the biggest blob north of where Alistairs finger still lingered.

“Lothering,” she sounded out carefully. It was difficult script for her to read. “What’s that?”

“Large town.” Alistair said, finally spooning some food into his mouth. “I would hazard a guess at the darkspawn heading there first. They’ll go wherever the closest opportunity for fresh meat is. Everywhere else is off-road trekking and much more effort to get to.”

“They really think like that?” Caden asked. “They have common sense?”

“You saw them.” Alistair said darkly. “They can set traps, lay ambushes… they may be bestial, but with intelligence enough. And besides, the Archdemon is leading them.” He looked up at Flemeth. “You say you definitely didn’t see a dragon on the battlefield.”

“I did not.” Flemeth said, sounding as though she had already answered this question. “Perchance the Archdemon is biding his time. Lying in wait. This was a battle, not the war.”

“A devasting battle.” Alistair countered.

Flemeth gave him an arch look then got up and went to the basin with her daughter, leaving the two Wardens alone. Caden was still scanning her eyes over the map. “We have to warn them.”

“Who?” Alistair seemed surprised she was even speaking, as if he’d forgotten she was there.

“Lothering.” Caden tapped on the name again. “There are people there, if it’s a town. People who need to get out.” She looked up at Alistair. “If the darkspawn are occupied then there’s a chance we could get there faster. Wait, could we organise a stand there? Muster whatever armies still live and hold them back?”

“No.” Alistair shook his head. “The majority were at Ostagar.”

“But not all.” Caden pressed.

Alistair looked sympathetically into her eyes, his hazel pair sombre. “Caden, there’s nothing to be done. The horde would slaughter the remaining men. They’d be outnumbered.”

Caden pushed away from the table, dejected. “So, what then? We go home? Wait for the horde to get us?”

“No…” Alistair searched for the words. “We _could_ go to Orlais. Raise the alarm to the Wardens there. They’re our closest allies after all and it’s only Wardens who can stop a Blight.”

That sounded like a plan. “Alright, where is Orlais?” She watched Alistair move his finger along the map, heading west until he reached the wood of the table. Off the Ferelden map. “About here.”

Cadens heart sank. “You want us to go all that way? What happens to Ferelden in the meantime?”

Morrigan cleared her throat, suddenly beside Caden. The elf watched as the witch touched her finger to the map, at Ostagar. A moment, a mutter and then a spark flew from her finger tip. Alistair yelped and pulled away from the magic. The marker for Ostagar caught fire and as Morrigan pulled the map up, freeing it from its weights, Caden watched the parchment burn up into ashes. Cadens heart plummeted.

“My daughter has a flair for the dramatic,” Flemeth said drily. “Fortunately, we do not want for maps.”

“You’re saying,” Caden started hesitantly. “that if we leave, Ferelden will be destroyed?”

“I am.” Morrigan nodded. “Can you live with that?”

Caden caught Alistairs eye. He looked deeply uncomfortable to have brushed so closely with wild magic. But he met her gaze and she could read resolve in those eyes. “No.” She said. “I can’t.”

 

*

 

After supper, the two witches went outside and left the Wardens at the table to discuss things further. The matter had been dropped initially, moving onto the ongoing care for the two walking wounded and more mundane things such as the meat Alistair had brought back and what else the women would need for the new few weeks. Caden had thought about the map going up in flames and thought about the horde reaching Denerim. Her family would be overrun easily. No-one in the Alienage were fighters and just like her they were not worldly and had never seen the darkspawn before. They would be hemmed in, slaughtered like cattle. It couldn’t happen. She would destroy the entire horde before it came to that. Somehow.

“Alright, so we don’t have many men,” Caden began as if they were in the middle of a conversation, not right at the start of one. She started to twist her long pale hair into a knot and secured it atop her head with a strip of fabric. Alistair looked over, interrupted from his own inner monologue. “We have some.”

“Yes,” Alistair nodded reluctantly. “Arl Eamon, for one. His army wasn’t at Ostagar. And there are others besides, but honestly Caden it won’t be enough.”

“I hear you,” Caden said. “We’d have to find more forces to bolster the soldiers.” She thought back to her brief time at Ostagar, the people she’d met. The Wardens were gone, and with a start she realised their servants were probably also said. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of Salasan, the elf manning the pot wash. Her mind brought up face after face; Farald Mason, the kennel master, the quartermaster who’s name she hadn’t learned. Those dwarves who had waved at her when she had first arrived. Likely all dead and fodder for the horde. She shuddered. Then she remembered Wynne, the kind woman smoking her pipe. “What about the mages? They weren’t in the thick of it, were they? Couldn’t we go to wherever they live and summon them? That doesn’t sound right, but if we ask them to help, they surely will, right?” Alistair gave her a strange look, his eyes widening, his face lightening. Caden frowned. “What is it?”

“Caden… that’s it!” Alistair exclaimed, looking almost joyful. “The treaties!”

Caden scrunched up her nose in thought. Slowly it came to her. “Those papers we got from Flemeth before the battle?”

“Yes!” Alistair enthused. “Those treaties allow Grey Wardens to recruit from armies that don’t serve under an Arl or a Bann. Or a Teryn,” he added, his mouth forming a distasteful moue as he thought of Teryn Loghain. “The mages are one such army.”

“Who else?” Caden asked. She got up and went to the selection of scrolls and picked one up, hoping Flemeth was right when she said they had plenty of maps. She unfurled it and glanced at the names. Ostagar, Denerim, Lothering. This would do.

“The dwarves,” Alistair was saying as she placed it down before them. “The Dalish.”

Caden brightened at once. “The Dalish?”

Alistair nodded. “Don’t get too excited. We know the Ferelden mages are here at Kinloch Hold,” he pointed to a small icon of a tower above a drawing of a lake. “and the dwarves are here,” he pointed to a spot in a mountainous region on the far west. “But the Dalish could be anywhere.”

Caden surveyed the map, chewing on her lower lip. “That’s alright,” she said. “we’ll find them. Where is your Arl Eamon?”

“Here,” Alistair pointed and Caden read out the name of Redcliffe. It was easier to read this less flowery printed script.

“That’s not far from the mages.” She observed. “We could start there and then go up to the Circle. Is he friendly?”

“Eamon?” Alistair asked. “Yes, he’s loyal to the crown. He’s… that is he _was_ Cailans uncle. And I know him well. I grew up in Redcliffe, actually.”

“Oh?” Caden asked. Alistair was fidgeting with the edge of the map, avoiding her gaze.

“Yes, I… my mother worked in the castle,” Alistair went on. “When she died having me, I was left in the care of the Arl.”

“Oh. So, you grew up in a castle?” Caden asked. She didn’t mean to let that small sliver of envy creep into her voice, but there it was. She forced herself to remember that he said his mother died giving birth to him. “I’m sorry about your mum. Mine died when I was twelve.”

“I’m sorry.” Alistair said, raising his head to meet her gaze again. They sat in a moment of companionable quiet, feeling the sorrow of being a pair of motherless children. “Adaia, right?”

Caden flinched hearing him speak her mother’s name, wondering how he could possibly know that. Then she remembered hearing Urien back at camp. _Adaia’s daughter_. She nodded mutely and swallowed. “She…” she cleared her throat to speak. “she gave me a knife before she died. So, I could protect myself. Only I lost it before I was conscripted.”

“That’s sad.” Alistair remarked with compassion. “Sad to lose something that meant so much.”

“Yes,” Caden nodded. “I still have her other gift, I—” Caden suddenly felt a wave of nausea hit her and she stood up from the table all of a sudden. Alistair looked on, concerned, but mostly confused. “Oh _Andraste_ , oh _no_ …”

“What’s wrong?” Alistair asked, rising with her.

“Her _boots_ ,” Caden said. “My boots. Oh, my letters from Nelaros! My dress. Oh… oh no, Andraste, it’s all back at camp.” She clamped her hands over her mouth, tears welling. Her heart was a panicked bird in a cage again and the sensation of guilt over losing her most precious, her only possessions, almost made her bring up the stew.

Alistair nodded sadly as if he knew what she meant. “Yes, everything’s gone.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Caden said, frantic. “Everything that mattered was there. My mother’s boots were there, the letters, my books… we have to go back.”

Alistair balked at her. “Caden,” he said sternly. “Don’t be crazy. The horde is there. Whatever got left behind is gone. You have to accept that.”

Caden was shaking her head, her breathing short and haggard. “No, I can’t—”

“Caden, people _died_.” Alistair snapped coldly. “They are what matters. Not things.”

“They weren’t just things!” Caden shouted. “My mother gave me those boots and I’ve lost them? No! Nelaros wrote me those letters. Don’t you see? He was a _person_ ; he was a person who died and those letters kept him alive! It’s like… like they killed him again!” Her voice broke on the last words and she sobbed loudly. “They’re dead.” And it _was_ like they had died all over again. Caden sank down to the floor, her legs simply folding beneath her. Her body wracked with aching sobs, causing pain along her bruised ribs. She sucked in air, crying too fast to breathe normally. They were dead and it was her fault. Caden was the one who got sick first, who gave the disease to her mother, but then Caden got better. It wasn’t fair. She brought death into the house and then her mother was taken away. And Nelaros, he had been the only one to come and save her and Shianni and he had died for it. Another check on Deaths list. Wasn’t she just a fine little accomplice? Now she had lost the things that kept them with her. Left them for the horde to desecrate. Caden pressed her face into her hands and bent down, curling in on herself kneeling on the floor, ignoring the pain from her side.

A scrape of the chair on the wooden floor and a rustle of fabric and then she sensed Alistair kneeling down before her. “I’m going to touch you now, if that’s alright.” She nodded automatically, momentarily shocked out of her grief by Alistairs refusal to touch her without her say-so. His hand reached out and then came down upon her shoulder, giving her a light squeeze. When she didn’t balk at that, he applied a little more pressure. It was unexpected, but this wasn’t a rough grab, he wasn’t manhandling her. His hand on her shoulder was an anchor when she felt the agony might break her apart. He was warm and he felt like light and miraculously Caden felt herself start to calm. She couldn’t stop crying, but she could breathe and she felt her heart slow to a more normal state. She was, beyond all evidence usually pointing to the contrary, being comforted by a shem.

“Are you alright?” Alistair asked after a while. Caden nodded. He let go. Caden looked up, tear stained face grateful and surprised.

“Thank you.” She said. “I’m sorry, I don’t ever do that, I swear. I’m fine.”

“People died.” Alistair said again, much softer now. Much more grief stricken, she now saw. Was that the reason for his mood swings, his capricious anger with her? “It’s normal to be upset.” His face crumpled and he lowered his head, a tear dropping onto his lap. Caden reached over and grasped his forearm, squeezing tightly, determined to pay back his kindness, especially if her sorrow had triggered his own grief. His voice was choked when he said: “I can’t believe Duncan’s gone.”

“I know.” Caden said. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

“We’ll do our job and get it done.” Caden promised airily. As if she could promise any such thing, but he nodded. “For everyone we’ve lost.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Ache is by VOID. 
> 
> Sad chapter. I know the game moves on fairly quickly once you wake up, but once again I purport to know best (such arrogance!) and wanted to slow down and focus a little more on the grief of such a big loss. 
> 
> I also know that I've fiddled the canon death of Adaia, having her ostensibly succumb to an illness while Caden was in the throes of a fever, but bear with me on that. More will be revealed in time, if you can stand to read a play-through fic that drags on and on!


	14. Heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a plan and a destination in mind, Caden and Alistair make preparations for their journey north.

** Heavy **

_Are you feeling sad 'cause you did a bad thing?_

 

“Everything you had on you is here,” Flemeth said, letting the Wardens into a small hut beside her home. It was dim inside night having fallen by now, but they had a lantern to cut through the darkness. "There wasn't much, but if it was on your person, then I brought it here."

"Thank you," Caden said. The old witch nodded once and let the door shut behind her as she left. Caden turned to Alistair. "I guess we start looking."

Alistair returned her look, mouth set into a grim line. He moved the lantern towards the middle of the room and set it down. Caden walked around it, brushing against the wooden walls as the size of this hut was not great. Their armour lay scattered at the back.

It was a sober sight. Blood and gore had dried on both sets of armour, deepening the colour on the leather and staining the metal brown. A few flies buzzed around the smell of this blood and other matter. Caden reached her fingers out without thinking and peeled a chunk of dried darkspawn ichor off her bracers. It had a soft feeling, congealed like dried fat and it smelled horrible. She dropped it, suddenly not wanting it anywhere near her bare skin, on the ground where it landed with a quiet splat and did not bounce. Caden shuddered and spotted what looked like grains on the hut floor. Peering closer she saw they were fat, dead maggots instead. She recoiled in horror and Alistair looked over, concerned. "What is it?"

"Dead worms." Caden said, feeling queasy. Alistair came over and looked at the ground. He nodded darkly.

"Nothing can survive on tainted darkspawn flesh or blood." Alistair explained. "These insects are no different."

Caden had turned and was taking some deep breaths to steady herself. Alistair watched and waited for her to turn back. "Sorry. Just caught me unawares. Let's keep looking."

Alistair nodded and they resumed picking at the armour, searching for the various small packs they had had on them during the battle. They worked in silence at first, only communicating to reach for the lamp, or hand it back.

“Why didn’t you look for these treaties before?” Caden asked as she picked up the water skin she had had on the night of the battle. It was half empty with stale liquid and she was tempted to just upend it over the armour to try to wash it down. She wasn’t exactly sure of the effect water would have on the leather and metal so she re-stoppered the skin and placed it back.

“Oh, well…” Alistair sighed. “Honestly it didn’t occur to me. I didn’t make any plans. I woke up and then I waited for you to do the same. Not very dynamic. I’m sure Duncan would have been disappointed in me.”

Caden heard the tremor in his voice and resolutely continued to search. She couldn’t turn around and face him; it had been hard enough facing him after her small breakdown and his tears earlier.

“What would you have done if our places were reversed?” He asked suddenly. She froze; was this a test of some sort? Still rifling through her belongings, she considered her answer. The truth was that she felt she probably would have packed up and headed back home, hoping to leave him and her new responsibilities behind. She had no doubt Duncan would have been twice as disappointed in her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“I don’t know,” she lied. “I guess we’ll never know, so what does it matter?”

Caden picked up a small pouch that closed with a catch, which when released allowed the leather to unfurl like a page. Strapped to the inside of the leather band were three small vials of red liquid. Caden traced one finger over the glass. "I didn't realise the armour came with built in medical aid." She thought back to the blows she had taken in the fight. Of course, it was ridiculous to think that any of these vials could have helped her in the final stand-off, but it would have been nice if someone had actually explained to her what she was carrying.

Alistair seemed to track her line of thought; it must have been written on her face. "There was so much we didn't brief you on." he said quietly. "Everything about your start with the Wardens has been so upside down."

Caden shrugged. "I guess that's what happens when you come in at the end of a story." She rolled the leather back up and closed it, slipping it onto the belt Morrigan had furnished her with after remarking that she was going to lose her trousers with the first step. 

Alistair was still, his expression revealing that his thoughts were probably very far away. "This isn't the end of the Wardens." He said softly, a note of determination filtering through. "Not while you and I still draw breath."

Caden peered through the pockets of her old armour, finding a glint of silver. She pulled out Warden’s Oath, the necklace that remembered the dead.

"What were the words you said at the Joining?" Caden asked. "The bit about dying?"

" _Should you perish_ ," Alistair said in a choked voice. " _know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten_." He trailed off to barely a whisper by the end of the quote. Caden looked up and met his gaze. She could see ghosts in his eyes and knew he was thinking about the brothers and sisters he had lost.

"I bet you can't believe you're stuck with me," she said with a bitter taste in her mouth. "The newest Warden who doesn't know anything and has never travelled and can't even light a stupid beacon on time."

"That wasn't your—wasn’t _our_  fault." Alistair retorted. "And you know it wouldn't have mattered anyway. You go into battle shoulder to shoulder with your fellow soldiers and you trust that they each have your back. You trust that your generals are honest and that everyone will follow through on the plans. If someone abuses that trust..."

"I get it," Caden said, reached for her boots. The Warden boots. She felt that oh so familiar swell of guilt. "I just feel... responsible. If I hadn't frozen on the bridge, if I'd been a seasoned soldier instead of... of me and if we'd lit the beacon on time, maybe Loghain would have been compelled to follow through. Maybe our delay caused him to make a choice then and there, to go instead of stay and fight."

"Caden you fought remarkably, despite your newness." Alistair said, suddenly impassioned. It took her by surprise, so Caden shut up and just watched him speak for a moment. "I’ll be honest with you: didn't want that mission. I wanted to be on the battlefield with the other Wardens, but I accepted the importance of the mission. Then to find the tower overrun... I don't know what I expected of you in that moment, but you weren't going to turn away no matter how afraid you might have been. I saw that in your face." He took a shaky breath and ran his hand over his hair, taking a moment to pause and gather his thoughts amidst the still very fresh memories. "I admit that being paired with anyone else might have felt easier at first. A soldier, like you say. Someone who'd seen war." Caden nodded. She couldn't fault him for these feelings. She also wished he'd been with someone else and that she'd never been conscripted and that she was at home right then, helping her father wash their dinner plates. She swallowed, battling a sob and tightened her grip on the boots. "But that wasn't the hand I was dealt and in the thick of battle I couldn't have asked for better. You took down that ogre after all." He almost managed a real smile at that. "I was proud of you, Warden-Sister."

Caden felt her hackles raise. Maybe it was her mind being miles away in that moment, back at the Alienage with her dad, or maybe it was the uncomfortable thrum of the golden light when Alistair called her Sister, but she felt her mouth pinch at the idea. "I appreciate what you're saying, Alistair." she said tartly. "But I wish it hadn’t been me in the tower with you. I wish I'd never been in Ostagar. I wish I'd never met any of you." She met his gaze, saw hurt in his eyes. "I wish I was back home."

She saw a muscle work in Alistairs jaw, but she turned away and began to search through the pieces of armour in earnest, not caring what smeared across her hands as she did so.

"I used to make wishes, too." Alistair said evenly. Caden set down the boots and picked up the chain-link of her chest piece. "But I stopped making wishes and learned to accept what was real when I grew up."

Caden, her back to Alistair, clinking the metal rings as she lifted it, felt a strange punch of satisfaction. So, he could get snippy? Good. Perversely she wondered just where his breaking point was. Could she push him even further? "Funny, I thought you said you preferred it when it was just you and me? That wasn't my wish."

The moment the words left her mouth, no matter how obnoxious she was feeling, she regretted them. The poison in her words hit him sharply and she looked up in time to see him physically wince. Alistair was looking through some bags and she watched him grip what he was holding, the lamplight bouncing off his white knuckles. Caden felt very horrible and petty. She opened her mouth to say something, but anything she could think of died on her tongue. She couldn't take it back.

Then the moment passed without her saying a word. Alistair glanced down at the papers in the pouch. "This is them." He said dully, then turned around and walked out of the hut letting the door fall loudly closed behind him. Caden jumped at the sound. He'd left her the lantern, though whether that was intentional move due to his good manners, or she had bothered him so much that he had simply forgotten it she didn't know. Caden stood in the hut, holding her piece of soiled armour and wearing her shame.

 

*

 

She didn’t see him again that evening. For a tiny hut in the middle swampland surrounded by forests, there seemed no end of space for the four people to sleep comfortably and most importantly, apart. Caden was directed to the bed she had woken up in, Morrigan had her own room on the opposite side of the house in a similar rooftop nook, Flemeth and Alistair were content in rooms off the main downstairs section. Caden couldn't help but marvel at the way they all fit in the small home as she curled up under the woollen blanket. It was better than dwelling on what had occurred in the storage hut.

She had gone too far. She knew that. Anyone would have been able to see that. Alistair had lost everything and had only ever tried to guide her and be nice to her. Maybe even be her friend; there were moments when she felt as though he actually liked her. At every turn she had rejected his kindness, relying on indifference towards him at best, outright hostility at worst.

Caden had never fit in properly in the Alienage. Too rowdy, too smart mouthed with the shems who ventured inside. The elders had clucked their teeth and her peers had hushed her, told her to mind herself or she'd get them all in trouble. They all existed with bowed heads and she had tried it that way. She really had. But she had also grown up on fairy tales, reading about girls who had been stolen or tricked or locked into battles of wits with monsters and men. Girls who had stood up for themselves, who had demurred when it mattered and cut when the chance arose. And although these were typically human girls fighting this fight, Adaia had invented plenty of elves for her to idolise. Elven girls who'd run away to live in the forest with the Dalish, elf queens who commanded armies, old elven women who had the trust of and could communicate with animals and trees and the weather. Caden might have lived in desperate poverty and hunger, but Adaia had seen fit to place stars in her eyes. Dreams and hope in a land where it did not usually reside. When Adaia died those feelings were poisoned at the roots, twisting into something darker. In place of hope, rage. Where she had had dreams, now lingered despair. And the stars in her eyes had burned into a thirst for vengeance. As Caden lay on the bed in the woods in the home of real live witches and reflected on her past, she knew this was no fairy tale and it was time to face up to reality. She had been so damn scared to wake up in Vaughan Kendalls estate, but those twisted roots had been glad. Deep down she had known she was being given a gift. Adaia had trained her well; she had fought her way to Vaughans chambers after all, and with her mother’s final gift she had faced down the monster and slain him.

Her peers had been right; she _had_ invited trouble. Courted it recklessly and her actions had had consequences. Her actions led her to the Grey Wardens and to Ostagar.

Alistair had done nothing to deserve her or her walls or her need to strike out like a cornered animal at the slightest hint of familiarity or when she felt stupid. Yes, she wanted to go home. She felt as though she would always want that, but she couldn't go back. Not now, maybe not for a long while. Her actions had consequences and through chance and good fortune she had not died. She was alive and so was Alistair and they were it for the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. As she had asserted downstairs at dinnertime there was no way she could turn her back on her duty. They had the treaties and they had a plan and course to follow. She had to see it through as far as she could. If she was existing on borrowed time as she believed she was then she had to take down as many of the enemy as she could, keep Alistair alive, keep as many Fereldens alive as she could. Her ribs still ached and her wounds pulsed dully with occasional reminders that she was not whole and healthy, but she knew getting to Lothering before the horde was vital if she could save anyone.

At some point in the night, amidst her unhappy thoughts, she fished out the pendant with the locket of blood inside. Holding it in the palm of her hand she remembered the two times Alistair had presented it to her. The first immediately after she came to during her Joining; she’d slapped it aside, too disgusted to look closely at it. The second was after that terrible meeting with Urien, when she’d feared for her life and had been saved by the thrust of Loghains sword. The traitor, her saviour.

_I thought you liked it best when it was just us two…_

He had given her the necklace then and she had taken it. Absentmindedly she opened the clasp on the chain and reached behind her to fasten it. The cool metal lay against her skin. As she pulled her hands away, her finger tugged the chain, momentarily tightening it across her neck. _It is a very pretty neck…_

With a strangled cry, she gripped the pendant and yanked it, feeling it taut on her skin, feeling fingers, pressure, her breath cut off, before the chain gave. She clamped her hand over her mouth, holding back a sob. _Andraste preserve me._

Caden dropped the necklace to the floor beside the bed and then rolled over onto her back, blinking in the darkness at the small scattering of stars that she could see through a loose board in the roof. It was very possible that her mother was looking over her shoulder as she made it through the world and so if nothing else, she would make that a focus. Act as though Adaia was watching her every move. Caden didn't feel like a nice person, Alistair had called her obnoxious. She would try harder. Apologise first thing the next day and take it from there. Turn over a more pleasant leaf. It wasn't fair on Alistair otherwise.

Caden tossed and turned in the small cot for another hour before sleep finally claimed her.

 

*

 

This time the dream was different. Caden was having the life squeezed out of her, with Vaughan on top of her, two hands on her neck, more hands on her legs, her body, tangling in her hair. She couldn't breathe and she couldn't get away. Her knife was out of reach. He was killing her.

Then his grotesque, laughing visage started to split. His mouth, so impossibly wide, peeled back, skin flaying away from his face and in its place was the ogre from the tower. It roared and Caden felt its claws digging into her flesh. She wanted to scream, but she had no voice, Vaughan had taken it from her before he changed into the ogre. Caden knew with nightmarish certainty that she was trapped and she was dying.

The ogre roared right in her face, another oh so wide mouth, filled with rows and rows of teeth. Caden shut her eyes and suddenly she could breathe. She opened her eyes to find herself floating in darkness, all alone.

No, not alone.

An enormous dragon was perched atop a rocky outcrop, surveying a cavern filled edge to edge with a heaving swell of darkspawn, all crying out and screaming in a cacophony of sounds. She looked down and couldn't see a space, they were shoulder to shoulder, hurlocks, genlocks, ogres and others besides that she had never seen before. Caden felt panic overtake her and then the sense of something looking at her. With dread, she raised her head and came face to face with the dragon, its blazing eyes burning into her.

_I... see... you..._

Caden screamed.

 

*

 

"Caden! Caden!" She lashed out before she was fully awake, hearing her palms slap against flesh, before she felt warm, calloused hands encase hers, gently but firmly. "Caden, wake up."

She opened her eyes, the blue darkened by fear. She could feel a chill on her skin, sweat cooling on her body, hair plastered to her face. Her chest heaved as she gulped down air, able to breathe again, nothing compressing her. She focused on the face beside her bed, connected to the arms that held her hands. Alistair. Even with only the dim light of the moon through the slats she could see concern in his eyes. She tugged her hands free and scooted up her bed, pulling herself into a sitting position.

"What was that?" she panted. “That was like the darkspawn were right here in this room.”

Alistair eased up off his knees and perched on the end of the bed, leaving plenty of space as Caden had her knees drawn up to her. His gaze felt heavy when he met hers. "A dream. Sort of. One more gift from your new blood." He said flatly. "The darkspawn don't really seem to have a language as such, they just roar and bellow at each other and somehow all end up going in the same direction. Like ants."

"Ants?" Caden frowned, clasping her legs and hugging herself. She thought of the black scurrying insects and tried to reconcile them with the monsters.

"Yeah, you know, they all follow along a line, like something's in their heads telling them where to go." Alistair elucidated, in the same monotonous tone. "Darkspawn have the Archdemon in their heads telling them what to do and we can tap into that sometimes, thanks to the taint in our blood." He dropped his gaze to his hands, fingers fidgeting in his lap. "Duncan was supposed to tell you this. He was supposed to tell you everything."

"So that dream was actually me hearing the Archdemon?" Caden asked, in disbelief. "That huge dragon?  _That's_  the Archdemon?"

"It is, although whether it's truly a dragon or not remains to be seen." Alistair said. "Some of the older Grey Wardens used to claim they could understand it, but I don't know about that. I've never understood it."

Caden shivered in the chill night. "It saw me." She murmured. "I know it did. Just like in my Joining."

She looked up as Alistair winced. "Ah yeah, another thing. They say the dreams are worse if you Join during a Blight and well... you did."

Her heart sank. It was just bad news after bad news. "Alistair, what else do I need to know? Am I going to start resembling a damn darkspawn?"

Alistair gave a half shrug, a wryness creeping into his voice. "I don't know, maybe only if you don't get enough beauty sleep."

Caden stared. "Cute." She snapped. "You know, I was lying here feeling bad about what I said, but you keep doing this. You keep holding things back from me. I'm beginning to think the Wardens are a cult with all the secrecy and lies. I need to know if any more horrible stuff is going to happen." She leaned forwards, dropping her legs, dipping her had to try to catch Alistairs downward gaze. "Alistair. Please."

He turned abruptly, causing her to flinch away and he began to rattle off things on his fingers. "Dreams of the darkspawn, as well as the ability to sense them, though of course that means they can sense you. An increased appetite, though I'm not sure you'll notice a difference given that you were helping yourself to thirds before you Joined. And not forgetting that you won't live as long as a Warden. You get about thirty years, if you're lucky and that's it. Then you hear the Calling," Alistair paused and glanced at her. She stared back unable to look away. "At some point at the end of the next three decades if you survive that long, you will end up down in the Deep Roads, facing down the horde until your death. That's your eventual destiny and that's only if we can stop the Blight." He broke off, his gaze intense. "And frankly I would say the chances of us reaching the Archdemon are slim to none if we can't work together. I'm half convinced you'll stab me in my sleep one night, given how much you seem to loathe me."

Caden felt awash with conflicting emotions. The gut punch of hearing this influx of hard to stomach information was one thing, but then her guilt rose up again over treating Alistair so consistently badly. She breathed in deeply, her arms trembling, fingers working the blanket in agitation.

"I'm... sorry." She said in a very small voice. "I regretted what I said as soon as I said it. I wish--"

"Don't start with the wishing thing again," Alistair cut through with a wave of his hand, though with no malice in his tone. "Let's not waste time on wishes."

She nodded. "Alright. Just please don't keep anything else from me. I've been trying to be nice--"

"That was you being nice?" Alistair interrupted, his expression one of incredulity. "Maker's Breath, Caden, how bad are you to people you don't try for?"

Caden looked down. He was right. She had been a horror. "Well, I wouldn't stab anyone in their sleep." She tried a small joke, a wan smile on her lips. "But you have the general idea."

Alistair let out a half-hearted snort of laughter. "I guess it's good to know you'll kill me in an honourable manner at least."

"I don't want to kill you," Caden said, serious again. He knew she had human blood on her hands already, so suddenly the joke wasn't so funny anymore. "I don't loathe you. I could give you excuses for my bad attitude... I miss my family, I didn't have a choice about joining the Wardens, I was not prepared for war..." She raised her shoulders. "They're all just excuses. I know how I am. I know I've been unfair to you. And I am sorry." Her shoulders dropped again, face bent downwards. "I... did Duncan say anything about me to you? About my life before the Wardens, or how I came to Ostagar?"

Alistair went quiet in thought and Caden thought she felt a change in the air between them. It wasn't pleasant, like any moment she would say the wrong thing and spoil everything. "Not really. Of course, I was there when Arl Urien stormed into the kings tent.” He glanced at her. “It was true then? You killed his son?” When Caden didn’t reply, he gave her a reassuring shrug. “You wouldn't be the first Warden with a past and we don't dwell on those pasts in the Wardens. What matters is your devotion to the cause and your willingness to stand with your Brothers and Sisters, ridding the world of darkspawn."

Caden met his gaze, not feeling all that comforted. "I guess I owe Duncan my life, but I can't see being a Warden as much of an alternative given everything we've been through and what you've told me tonight. Still. I didn't really want to be executed."

"I can't imagine anyone would." Alistair said, hiking one eyebrow.

"Fair enough," Caden nodded. Her mouth was dry as she thought of those men she'd cut down on her way to Vaughan. She blinked and without pausing to catch herself she heard her voice saying: "My husband died." That wasn't exactly the truth of course and she frowned at her choice of words, but Alistairs face was changing again with sympathy. It felt like she'd stolen it. “He was murdered.”

"Oh Caden," he said softly. "I am so sorry." She saw his hand reaching across the bed and although her nerves were screaming to pull away, she forced herself to stay still and see what happened. If she was going to manufacture his empathy then she ought not throw it back in his face. His hand dropped over hers, lightly pressing, but not smothering. Caden could feel her pulse skip at the touch her instinct still to flee or fight from the feel of a human man on her skin and that dream fresh in her mind. Instead she froze and let him try to offer her comfort. She could feel the cool gold band between their hands.

“Anyway.” Caden said simply, hoping he would release her soon. “Thanks for checking on me I guess.”

Mercifully Alistair took his hand back. “I was awake anyway and heard your start to thrash about. I figured you were probably having darkspawn dreams. I thought you might like to know you’re not alone.”

Caden nodded dumbly. She was touched. She’d been so unkind to him, yet he had put that aside to make sure that she was alright. It was unnerving, having someone who was still very much a stranger be so invested in her well-being. “You didn’t have to…”

“I did.” He replied insistently. “Everyone else is gone. Maker’s Breath, if you quit on me now and I had to do this by myself…” He dropped his forehead into his palm, elbow resting on his knee. “Well, let’s just say we might as well just hand the keys to Ferelden over to the darkspawn right now.”

“I’m not going to quit.” Caden said in a small, but fierce voice. “I want to go home one day so I need there to be a home for me to go back to.” She took a deep breath and sat up a little taller. “We have to do this.”

“Yes, we do.”

 

*

 

The next day was spent cleaning up their armour. It took some doing, but after brushing the dried blood off, then wiping the leather with warm water removed the worst of the mess. Caden and Alistair sat side by side outside, the only noises coming from the breeze in the trees, the insects in the reeds and the occasional fish surfacing in the pools of water nearby. Flemeth and Morrigan were able to provide oil to rub into the leather sections of the armour. Caden found the task oddly relaxing, seeing her armour gleam after her work gave her a thrill of satisfaction. It was mindless work and they didn’t speak, which was just how Caden wanted it. At one point she’d looked over to see Alistair polishing up his griffon embossed breast plate with a coarse sand mixture and a brush, only to see his head bowed and a tear running down over his nose, dripping down onto the plate. Caden had swallowed and returned to her own work. It didn’t feel right to intrude upon his grief.

The rest of the day could have been just like any other day at Ostagar, with Caden and Alistair in the Wilds. Just the two of them in the woodlands in makeshift armour—their Grey Warden armour sitting aside back at the hut after their cleaning—it was almost like the day they had carried on after Jorys injury. This time they weren’t hunting for treaties, but game. Alistair was not an expert by self-admission, but he knew enough of the basics to pass on. Caden was reminded, as she nocked an arrow and drew back the string of her bow, a rabbit in her sights, of the offer from Lyra to teach her archery. Her shot went wide and her quarry fled. They returned home with one pheasant and far fewer arrows than before, but Caden did manage to find a small clump of the honeyed flowers she had retrieved for the kennel master before the battle. She thought of the sick mabari and wondered if she had recovered before the darkspawn had breached the fort. She hoped the dog had not suffered as she picked a small handful. The flowers were very pretty and she hadn’t seen that many in the Alienage. It was nice to have something beautiful during this horrible time.

They didn’t return to Ostagar. They knew where it was of course; the horde was there and the concentration of darkspawn, Caden found, was easy to tap into if she tried to reach for it with her mind. It would have been easy to scout up to the walls and survey the area, but neither suggested it. Caden knew that if she got close enough, she would be compelled to enter and foolishly seek out her belongings. She didn’t know what Alistairs reasons for avoiding the place were, but she could guess.

That evening they ate a previously caught rabbit along with dandelion leaves and marsh samphire, both of which grew in great number around the hut and discussed the next step of their journey. It had already been agreed that they were to be heading forth for Lothering, the horde showing no desperation to leave Ostagar until their voracious appetite for carrion had been sated. What came as a surprise was the store of provisions Flemeth was willing to part with. She had some self-penned, leather wrapped notes on the basis of foraging that she apparently knew by rote so was willing to part with. She had quite a store of mens clothing, only mens, and none small enough for Caden, but with some needlework they had been amended to fit more or less and these were packed for both Wardens to take. A bedroll each and one worn, but clean and whole canvas tent. From the witches pantry there was dried meat, some of the dark bread and plenty of cheese and apples and blackberries to take, which would see them through until Lothering. Each pack held a length of thick hemp rope. They were permitted to keep the bows they had used that day and the remainder of the arrows, which was a small number, but ammunition enough providing Caden practised and improved her aim. Caden was overwhelmed by the help being given by Flemeth and the sheer number of provisions they were being gifted with, but by far the most surprising was the final offer.

Caden glanced at Alistair, a mouthful of rabbit preventing her from speaking for the moment.

“You want us…” he started, then coughed to clear his throat, “…to take your daughter with us?”

Morrigan, who had been gaping at her mother, apparently just as thrown by her idea as the Wardens had been, now snapped her mouth shut and focused a glare in Alistairs direction. “I have a name, Warden.”

Caden swallowed her food. “Well, Morrigan, we’ll be glad to have you…” Morrigan turned to her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Over her shoulder Caden could see Alistairs bewildered frown. She turned to Flemeth. “If you’re sure? I mean...won’t you be worried about her?"

Flemeth laughed. "You'll be taking her off my hands, don't you worry! I am more concerned about how you will fare without her assistance. She can be very useful in a pinch and it will no doubt give her the chance to practise her healing abilities some more." Flemeths face became serious and she leaned across the table towards Caden lowering her voice to a solemn tone. "Do you understand, Warden, that I give you that I treasure above all things?"

"I do," Caden nodded. "She won't come to harm with us." In the back of her mind she fretted about having a third mouth to feed, a further person to worry about besides herself and Alistair. Alistair opened his mouth and then shut it again. Morrigan crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes and pouted sullenly.

"Good," Flemeth said clapping her wizened hands together with glee. "Everyone's contented then!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from a song by Birdtalker. In building my store of song lyrics for titles and playlists I listened to a lot of new music (new to me) on Spotify and Birdtalker has been a great find.


	15. Shake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newly formed party head North

** Shake **

_Kinda lost my way you see_

 

The silence was palpable. They had set out after an early breakfast meal, Morrigan turning and walking north, away from her mother without so much as a word of goodbye. Caden had shared a glance with Alistair, both darkly confused. She was certain Alistair was feeling the same as she was; a chance for a goodbye was not something to be refused so lightly. That was the last time she had exchanged anything with Alistair for the rest of the day. Instead Caden watched him retreat into himself, eyes never quite in focus. It was frustrating; their relationship was rocky, but Caden had hoped that they had reached a better, more companionable place. The trouble was that she still didn't know him well and so she didn’t know how to draw him back out. She left him to his ghosts and thoughts.

Their route out of the wilds was not a simple, straight line north. That way Ostagar lay and they had to avoid it. Flemeth had projected that this diversion would add a good two days’ worth of travel time to their route towards Lothering, not something Caden relished whilst walking with the two sombre humans. Her boots squelched in the mud that seemed to linger on every path, the air buzzed with those biting insects and there was a constant smell of brackish water. At first, they had an accompaniment of birdsong, but as they drew closer to their berth around the fort, that petered out and stopped entirely. Even the insect’s presence waned and Caden had no doubt that a seasoned tracker would have noted a lack of other animal life, too. As for her, she just chewed on the jerky they had brought and felt glad of their provisions if fresh meat would be hard to come by.

The ground began to take on a darker tone as they walked. Their goal was to circumnavigate Ostagar on this first day as best they could, all the better to make camp as far away from it as possible. Caden stretched out with her mind, feeling for the horde and she found it. North west of their location, closer and louder than before. The oozing feeling of wrongness slid down her spine.

The ground was dark and the plants were rotting. That was the sight that met her as they pressed on. At first, she had thought it was the sun starting to find its way beneath the horizon causing long shadows and tricks of the light, but the trees were drooping and the plants were shrivelling. It had been hours since anyone had spoken, so Caden had to cough and wet her throat with a drink before she could form words. “What’s wrong with everything?”

Morrigan, seeing that Alistair was making no move to hold back for their shorter companion, turned and glanced to where Caden was looking. “Blight.” She said simply.

“I know there’s a Blight,” Caden replied. Morrigans raised eyebrow made her feel all kinds of stupid.

“What do you think a Blight is?” Morrigan asked, not quite falling in step with Caden.

“This.” She answered. “The darkspawn and everything being awful?”

“It is called a Blight because a blight is a wrongness that spreads, like a disease.” Morrigan explained. “It might just as well have been called a Scourge or a Plague. Do you understand what I mean?”

Caden nodded. “I think so. There have been outbreaks of sickness in the Alienage from time to time. The kind that makes everyone ill, whole households sometimes.”

“There you are then.” Morrigan said. “The Blight is like that, except where sickness might target only people, this will infect everything. Look above you.” Caden obliged and was met with a sky that was grey and covered in clouds that blocked out most of the sunlight. She had been so distracted by the plant life and absence of animals that she hadn’t even thought to look up. “This is all due to the Blight.”

At that, Morrigan strode on ahead, the matter resolutely closed. Caden hurried to catch up to her and Alistair, both of whom were making far lighter work of the journey than she was.

They pressed on without speaking once again, until Morrigan spotted something. She halted their expedition and then directed them due east. Alistair hesitated, but Caden followed without question. Her feet hurt after a day of walking and she just wanted to sit down. After a moment Alistair followed the women. Morrigan was following some path that neither Warden could see, but after a few twists and turns through the trees and rocks, she brought them to a dead end. Rocks shot from the ground to the sky, jagged ends pointed vertically. It was a solid wall of what appeared to be an old pile of large stones following a landslide down a rocky hill. Caden stopped and frowned. There was no way around it unless she expected them to climb. Her heart sank at that prospect. But then Morrigan dipped her head and disappeared between two rocks. Caden blinked and immediately lost where Morrigan had entered, the rocks appeared to be too closely packed to slip through. Alistair stopped beside her.

“Where did she go?” he asked, voice rough from lack of use.

Morrigan’s head appeared again. “This way, come on.” Caden didn’t think, she just followed. As she drew closer, she could see the small gap where Morrigan had entered by. A small bloom of light appeared, guiding the way. Caden shrugged off her pack lest it get snagged, and carried it carefully through.

Inside the rock fall was a small cavern that Caden could just about stand upright inside. Morrigan had a lantern lit and Caden walked the few paces towards her that the small space allowed. This would be cosy.

It got a lot more cramped as Alistair entered, his stature bowed and seeming to take up more than his fair share of space. Morrigan had removed her pack and set it on the ground, so Caden set hers down as well, choosing an arbitrary spot against the far wall. Alistair, back bent, looked around with discomfort.

“Am I to take it that you mean for us to stay here tonight?” he asked. The tone of his voice suggested quite how ridiculous he found this idea to be. Caden glanced from one to the other, saying nothing.

“Indeed we are.” Morrigan said, crouching to go through her pack. “I admit it is not a large space, but given our proximity to the darkspawn it is far preferably than a tent out there.” She nodded towards the exit. “By all means pitch your tent and take your chances, but this place is watertight and difficult to find by passers-by. The choice is yours.”

Caden looked back to Alistair, biting her lip. He glared back, not pleased and she shrugged helplessly. Alistair huffed and dropped his pack without venturing further inside, carefully lowering himself to the ground in defeat. His annoyance smouldered like the last coal in a fire as he unbuckled his scabbard and pulled off his shield, to set them beside him. Caden followed suit and sat down, clutching her pack to her, slipping off her own sheathed swords. She grabbed her water skin and took another swig, only for something to do. Morrigan finished searching through her pack and withdrew some apples and hard yellow cheese, carving off a segment of apple and eating it with a slice of cheese.

“No fire tonight,” Morrigan instructed between mouthfuls. “This place should be warm enough with three bodies inside.”

“That’s smart.” Caden said stiltedly. The pressure inside this place was unbearably tense, as Morrigan ate and Alistair glowered. Caden looked from one to the other, not sure what to do.

“I’ll take first watch.” Alistair said abruptly. He reached into his bag for some of the dried meat and tore a chunk off with his teeth. “I’ll eat, then you two can sleep.”

“Alright,” Caden nodded meekly. She busied herself with her own light meal, wishing they were back at Flemeths eating something hot and delicious again, but as they were not her food had to be enough. She chewed on the bread slowly, hoping to trick her stomach into being satisfied by her small morsel. It was a method borrowed from the Alienage, but it turned out that Alistair had been right about the extreme appetite. She finished a roll and started looking for something else to take the edge off her still growling belly.

No-one spoke for a while. The Morrigan nodded to Caden. “No nightmares tonight.” She ordered out of the blue. “I don’t want my sleep disturbed unless there are true darkspawn bearing down on us.”

Caden opened her mouth to reply, a bemused frown. Surely, she wasn’t serious about that? Caden could hardly control what went on in her sleeping mind. But then Alistair spoke up.

“It pains me to say it, but she’s right.” He said thoughtfully. Caden’s mouth snapped shut. “We’re so close to the horde, although it’s unlikely the Archdemon is with them. Flemeth didn’t report seeing him, and you saw him underground in your last dream, so that’s where he probably still is. Even so, we’d better be cautious or you might draw them to us if you reach out for them in your dreams.” He looked over at Morrigan, for the first time without a disparaging expression. “Do you have anything she can take to keep away dreams?”

Caden was shaking her head slowly; were they really discussing her as though she weren’t right there? Morrigan picked a small pouch out and tugged it open.

“Take some of this with water and you should be out like a light.” Morrigan said offering the pouch to her. Caden stared down at it and didn’t move.

“What is that?” She asked quietly.

“Templars carry it with them,” Morrigan said. “Mother and I have often seen fit to liberate them off their items when they have gotten too close.” After that brief information she apparently did not see fit to explain further so Caden looked over to Alistair. He was frowning at Morrigans clear glee at having stolen things from Templars, but instead of complaining about that, he instead picked up the line of explanation. 

“It’s nothing, just some herbs.” He said. “It’s used on travelling mages to keep them from the Fade in sleep so demons can’t try to possess them outside of their Circle.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal. “It should work on you by keeping you asleep, but not dreaming.”

Caden held out her hand and let Morrigan upend the pouch, tipping out some crushed, dried leaves into her palm. Caden eyed it warily. She had no idea what this was, but if mage hunters used it to subdue the sleeping magic users it seemed like it must be a heavy- duty drug. She looked up at the others; Morrigan was putting the pouch away, Alistair had pulled out a cloth to wipe his already clean sword. “Is it safe?” Caden asked into the quiet, once again feeling foolish.

Alistair looked up, surprised at the question. “Of course.” He said easily. “It’s just an herbal remedy. You’ll sleep better than anyone, I’m sure.”

Caden grimaced, but uncorked her water skin and tipped some liquid into a cup from her pack. Morrigan gestured to her to add the concoction, so she did, swirling it around with her finger. The crushed leaves dissolved, turning the water a murky green. Caden didn’t stop to think, she just tipped the contents down her throat. It was bitter and left an unpleasant aftertaste. She looked over to Alistair but he was already vanishing out of the cave. She put her things away, gulped down some more water, then wrapped herself in her blanket and rolled onto her side, facing the stone wall. The ground was cold and hard. She felt like she’d never get to sleep, with or without herbs and she was still afraid of what her nightmares might bring. Even so, listening to Morrigans steady breathing and the light patter of rain that had begun outside allowed her to drift off into a deep sleep.

 

*

 

Sleep was not restful. She might have staved off night terrors, but only because it felt like she had submerged beneath the surface of a lake to avoid them. They were there, noises and feelings and sights all around her, but she couldn’t focus on them and they sounded murky. Like there was a barrier between them, though she knew they were there. Darkspawn and Vaughan, even his father was there. The Wardens dying on the battlefield. Remembering how it felt to wake up after her fever broke to find Adaia had died. It was all there around her, but with no way to escape any of it.

When she woke, Caden felt as though she had been running all night long. Alistair said something to her, but the words were fuzzy around the edges, as if she were still dreaming. She blinked slowly, his face swimming in and out of focus. Morrigan appeared, checking her over with what had become her trademark curt assessment. They pressed food into her hand and she started to eat, but after two bites she forgot what she was holding and so forgot to continue her meal.

Another long blink seemed to jump her ahead in time; one moment she was in the cave, the next she had her pack on and was stumbling through the woods again. She couldn't remember packing her things or getting going. She lifted her hand and found an apple in her grasp, the bites having browned in time. She took another bite on instinct. Alistair's voice floated over the breeze to her, but he might as well have been speaking another language for all she understood.

The next time her focus returned, she was knee deep in water. The cold shocked her alert and she looked down. Tiny fish were darting away from the intrusion into their world. Caden dropped something, causing a small splash and she watched the apple core bob up to the surface again and wend along the path of the stream. When had she eaten that? Her stomach growled. A hand took her arm and tugged firmly; she was too numb to register her usual complaint to being touched like this and she allowed herself to be pulled out of the brook. "Maker's Breath, Caden," Alistair complained. "Look where you're going."

Caden couldn't see his face; her eyes were narrowing to try to focus on the sun shining on the plates over lapping over his upper arms. The dappling light was hypnotic. She heard him say something, but the beams were too transfixing.

A sharp stab of pain and Caden was on her face in the dirt. The sound of the stream was gone and she was lying awkwardly on her forearm, where it was twisted beneath her. She rolled onto her side and pulled it free of her own body, registering the pain, but from a distance. A growled voice spoke: "What in the Maker's name did you give her?"

"'Twas nothing more than a simple herbal concoction, which  _you_  requested for her."

"That was before I knew it would render her utterly useless."

Caden managed to hear both speakers in full, her mind not wandering off halfway through a sentence. It struck her as strange to hear them speak. Alistairs hands were on her again, pulling her to her feet. She forced herself to squint up at his face. There was a mixture of concern and irritation on his face. "Are you alright?"

She felt the world lurch again, but kept her feet rooted to the ground. Her tongue was furry and stuck to the roof of her mouth when she tried to speak. Alistair thrust her water skin into her hands, only to find it was empty, so he reached for his own. She drank deep, as if she hadn't touched water in days. "Can you hear those birds?" She asked when she was sated.

"There aren't any birds," Alistair said. "Caden, I need you to focus, please." Caden nodded, her head heavy. "Eat something." He rifled through his pack to find some bread and held it out to her. She smelled the spices and remembered eating a similar loaf one morning with Alistair. That more than anything cut through the fog, and before she knew it, she'd eaten the whole offering.

They were walking again, this time Caden was being led by Alistair, him slightly ahead, his arm bent backwards with his hand clasped around hers. It felt oddly nice to be in the care of someone else. Her head hurt.

By the time they stopped to make camp, the stars were out. They'd pressed on through the darkness for as long as possible, Caden realised as she looked up at the sky. "Where are we?" She asked, feeling a little more herself.

"Are you back with us?" She looked back to Alistair who was unfurling her bed roll for her. "Truly?"

Caden turned back to the sky. "The stars make shapes." She said, entranced. She heard him huff in disappointment at her lingering stupidity. 

"Yes, those are constellations." He replied.

"No, look, there are pictures," she said, pointing at the scattered lights on the navy background of the heavens. "Look, see?"

Alistair stood up and went to her side, humouring her by following her fingers direction. "I see them." He said, his tone placating. "You need to get some sleep."

"I have more herbs for her," Morrigan said from across the way. "She's rather amusing like this, don't you think?"

"No, actually, I don't think." Alistair snapped back. "I think we're lucky we didn't meet any darkspawn today, because like this Caden would have stood no chance against them." Caden frowned at this, hearing Morrigan snicker. Alistair tugged at her elbow. "Come on, Caden, while there's clearly still some of that medicine in your system, you should take advantage and get to sleep. I'll stay on watch right here, alright?"

Caden looked back up at the sky. "How many stars are there?"

Alistair sighed. "I don't know. Why don't you try to count them as you fall asleep?"

"What do you think they are?"

"Caden, I don't know," he said, an edge to his calmness now. "Lie down and think about it."

Caden complied, lying against the ground on the blanket, wrapping the rest over her. She lay on her back, eyes fixed on the sky above her, that she could see through the treetops. Alistair sat down a little way from her, his back against a tree truck. "They make me feel small." Caden said quietly.

"Me, too." Alistair replied. Morrigan let out a derisive snort, but then mercifully went quiet. Caden blinked and watched the stars, as if expecting them to do something. Her gaze wavered and bowed as she drifted in and out of focus, the stars blooming into pale splodges, like paint on a canvas. Eventually Caden stopped seeing the stars and fell into a deep sleep.

 

_Her mother was there. Caden could see her, and hear her, but she couldn't seem to catch Adaias attention. She realised she was a tiny child, short toddler legs too small to catch up to her mother as she weaved in and out of the other elves. All the elves were wearing blue and silver and there was music, like a party was happening. Caden heard her baby voice calling for her mama, but she did not turn back. She ducked and dove in between legs, that were suddenly as tall as trees, and just as unmoving. She realised the elves were gone and she was in a forest. Her mama's laughter echoed ahead and she tried to run, calling for her._

_The laughter encircled her and Caden found she couldn't move any further. She turned around and there was something in the way. Walls all around her, grey and crumbling. Ostagar._

_The noise began to rise and it wasn't laughter anymore, it was shouting, yelling, a clashing of metal and screams. So many screams. The walls were burning, the ground shaking and an ogre was bearing down on her._

 

Caden awoke with a start, sitting up with her blanket clutched to her chest. She gulped in the night air, her heart beating wildly. As if the past day had suddenly caught up with her, she knew where they were. "Alistair?" She asked into the darkness. She looked to the tree where he had been sitting and he was gone. She turned around, searching through the gloom. "Alistair?"

"I'm here," she turned again and there he was, walking towards her. "I was checking the perimeter of our camp and heard you." He reached her and crouched down beside her. "Are you alright?"

"I guess so," she replied, unconvincingly. Alistair lowered himself onto his hip and sat down next to her, knees up, arms lazily draped over his legs. The moon was shining down on them and at this closeness she could see his face. He was waiting patiently for her to go on, apparently aware she was not being entirely honest. She sighed. "Strange day."

"That it was," Alistair nodded. "Do you remember anything about it?"

"Just that I kept losing time," Caden said with a frown as she recalled what she could. "It was like being in a dream, jumping throughout the day as if only a moment had passed." She shivered. "I didn't like it." Now she raised her head and looked Alistair straight in the eye. "Do I have to keep taking that stuff?"

He hesitated. Caden bit her tongue, refusing to beg, though she knew with total certainty that she would plead with everything she had if he insisted on her continuing with the remedy. "Last night you slept through." Alistair said after a while. "We couldn't wake you for your watch. That was unexpected and rather concerning. Today you were awake but out of it for most of the day. As much as I don't want your nightmares to draw the enemy to us, I was not happy to have to watch you so carefully today either. If anything had attacked us, I'm not sure what would have happened." He broke off and shook his head. "I'd rather have you with us than drugged."

"Me, too." Caden agreed quickly. "I'll get a hold of myself with the dreams, I swear it.” A thought struck her and she leapt forward with it. “You have them under control, right? Teach me."

"It's not that easy." Alistair admitted. "It's not something you can be taught, it's just something that comes with time. I've said it before, you Joined at the worst possible time and it's all going to be much harder for you. We just have to live with that."

**_I_** _have to live with that_ , Caden thought, but she kept that to herself. Now wasn't the time to bite Alistairs head off, not now she knew the witch had the power to dull her mind. A cold chill washed over her; they wouldn't do that, surely? Keep her compliant if she acted difficult? She had a sudden horrible image of what those herbs could do in the hands of someone like Vaughan Kendalls and she felt her stomach heave unpleasantly. Holy Andraste, would she always react so viscerally to the thought of that man? Would she ever be able to leave him behind her?

"Look, I'm awake now," she said, forcing those thoughts away. "Why don't you get some sleep. I need to make up for being so useless." She thought back to the phrase she'd heard Alistair use that day. "Utterly useless."

Alistair looked a little guilty, but mostly she could see gratitude on his face. He was exhausted. "I'll just shut my eyes for a moment." He said and minutes later, she heard his gentle snoring. Caden copied his earlier position of resting against a tree and settled down, fishing for a snack as her belly protested at its emptiness.

 

*

 

The peace couldn't last, and although they made excellent time and managed to increase the distance between them and the horde by the next night, Caden woke from a nightmare after taking her turn on watch. Both Alistair and Morrigan insisted in their own way; her forceful, him regretful, on Caden taking another dose of the herbs. She pleaded, eyes shining with tears, but although Alistair had to look away, they both agreed it was the best—the only—course of action. The only concession was that the dose be halved to try to combat the fatigue the following day. Caden took her bitter pill and slept through again, and then spent the majority of the following day combating blocks in her memory. It was rotten and she felt like a liability every time she came to and remembered what was going on and where they were.

By that evening the herbs had worn off, so she was given another half dose to sleep and this time she didn't bother trying to persuade them against it. She knew they had to be tired, taking all the watches between them, but neither suggested that Caden skip a dose. It became an inevitability, despite the fact that they were nearing the end of the wilds and almost on the road to Lothering.

On the fifth day they finally reached the road, their winding curve around Ostagar and the horde having come to an end. Caden sluggishly felt the ground beneath her feet change from marshy woodlands to actual stone. The trees fell away and the sun shone down upon them again. They were out of the Wilds. That thought pierced her weary mind and woke her up again. They couldn't expect her to take the herbs anymore now, could they? Or at the very least she could argue against it now that they were further away from danger. She resolved grimly that she would not let them convince her to take any more herbs.

As the sun crested the sky, they headed up the empty road. No-one was travelling from Ostagar and this road only went between the fort and the town. They had it all to themselves. Until they didn't.

Caden was fiercely keeping her grasp on the present, refusing to let time slip away from her, when she heard a yelp from behind them. She whirled around, squinting back on their road. Something was coming. She reached out with her mind. Not darkspawn. That horrible sensation was nowhere to be found.

"Be careful," Alistair warned, scanning the road, looking in the same direction as her. They had had the sun at their backs and now, turned around, they were hampered by its glow. Caden raised her hand to block the sun, casting a shadow over her face. Another sharp cry, this time coming not from directly behind them, but rather off the road. Caden turned and suddenly barrelling into view came a sizable brown and black creature on four legs, teeth bared. Alistair gave a shout, but before Caden could react she felt two sizable paws impact on her chest, knocking her off her feet and onto her back, which was carrying her pack, so she ended up leaning back against it, backside firmly skidding across the stones. Hot breath warmed her face and her gaze focused on sharp fangs. Caden winced back, but there wasn’t anywhere to go and then the beast attacked.

A rough, hot tongue slathered over her face, coating her in saliva. Caden tried to protest, hands reaching up to brush against short fur as she shoved the animal off her. Her shove worked and the animal backed off, but only enough to give Caden the chance to sit fully upright, face to face with the open mouth of the mabari. She could have sworn it was smiling. "Hello you," Caden murmured. Alistair hovered behind, seemingly unsure of protocol when ones fellow Warden was being assaulted with love, rather than enemy fire. Morrigan was further back, her staff in her hands, looking more suspicious. Caden scratched the mabaris head, slipping down to work her ear. The dog leaned into her hand, short tail thumping happily. She stank, but then Caden mused, so did she. And now she smelled worse, covered in dog spittle. She used her free hand to brush the back of it over the dogs head, swiping at the dampness. She suspected she made it worse. She didn't mind. For the first time since Ostagar she felt a sense of peace in the simple joy of fussing a dog.

"This is the sick mabari, right Alistair?" She asked from her position on the floor. The dog leaned further into her, turning around and sitting between her legs, letting Caden use both hands to scratch down her spine. "The one I got the flower for."

"I... wow, I guess so." Alistair said, coming closer now. "By the Maker, I didn't even remember you did that. She's done well to survive by herself."

"Are you sure it isn't feral?" Morrigan asked darkly. "Infected with the taint?"

"No, she's fine," Caden said, breathing in the smell of filthy dog as if she smelled of the sweetest roses instead of muck and moisture. "She's all better now. But what I don't understand is how she found us."

"Found you, you mean." Alistair remarked. "Mabaris are clever and loyal; I'll wager she's remembered what you did for her."

"Really?" Caden was bemused. She had never really known dogs before, other than the fancy looking things sometimes accompanying ladies walking through Denerim that she had spied through the Alienage walls. This was a beast of war, a loyal companion to soldiers. Could it be that she had somehow made an impression on this hound that she wanted to walk beside her? "We have to take her with us." she asserted.

Alistair cracked a small smile at this. "If you say so. You'll have to name her. And get up from the floor at some point."

Morrigan rolled her eyes and turned away, one arm on her hip. Caden shared a glance with Alistair at Morrigans reluctance to have the dog join their small party. It was a relief to feel like she had someone in her corner after several nights of feeling like the outsider, the difficult one with the problems. Alistair offered her a hand and she took it, nudging the dog off her thigh before she stood. The mabari stood with her and looked ready to go. Caden gave her a last pat then happily set off again, her new companion at her heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for the chapter title is Shake by The Head and the Heart. 
> 
> The choices in this chapter to give Caden some medicinal aid to keep her from dreams of darkspawn came about when I thought about just how close the horde they would be passing. It's the kind of thing the game glosses over, but us fanfic'ers can't help but overthink, or at least I can't help it! I hope it makes sense and doesn't seem totally bizarre!


	16. Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party reach Lothering and find the way blocked, though not for long.

** Prey **

_You'll just keep it inside, Probably tell me that you're alright_

****

 

Caden held her breath for a moment, and another. In one motion she exhaled and released the string, the arrow propelled forward with the release of tension, spinning through the air, whistling across the distance until it sank into the neck of a young buck. It barely had time to feel the surprise of the strike, before a second arrow sunk beside the first and the creature expired, legs folding underneath him. Caden lowered the bow and flashed a grin at Alistair, who was mirroring the motion. "We did it," she said, pleased with herself. Her first successful hunt.

"Nice work." Alistair nodded, heading over to their kill. "Let's get him back to camp."

Together they retrieved their arrows, and between them lifted the still warm body of the deer. He was heavier than he looked and Caden had to brace herself to haul him up. She saw Alistair watching her as she shifted her hold on the beast; no doubt he could have carried the buck by himself over his shoulders, but he said nothing as she adjusted her grip and they started walking.

This was the first time they had made what felt like a true camp since leaving Flemeths hut. In the Wilds they had kept a much lower profile, but on this day they were further away from Ostagar and from the threat of being found by the horde, so they had moved off road and set up their two tents. Morrigan was building a fire when they returned and her eyes rounded ever so slightly at their prize, the only sign that she was vaguely impressed or pleased.

The Wardens set down the buck, Caden grateful to be able to straighten up fully again now that she was divested of the heavy body. She watched as Alistair wordlessly started gathering supplies and arranging the kill a little way away from their camp. He propped the head of the beast upright using rocks, while the body was moved onto its back. Cadens mabari padded over, sniffing wildly. She set her hand on her head to stop her in her tracks. "Soon," she murmured to the dog, for the first time wondering what she had survived on in the Wilds, given the notable absence of wildlife.

Caden looked over to Morrigan who was finishing stacking the wood. Where Caden had expected Morrigan to reach for flint, she watched Morrigan merely perform some hand gestures and mutter something under her breath and the wood pile blossomed over with flames. It was still a surprise and a strange delight to see magic up close. She hadn't seen Morrigan fight yet and was oddly looking forward to it. She wondered if she would see a difference in her style to that of the mage who had accompanied her and Alistair to the Tower of Ishal, the way that fighters had unique discipline and styles with their blades.

Alistair had a knife in hand and Caden continued to stroke her mabaris head while he tore carefully through the skin, opening the body of the buck from top to bottom. Caden looked down just in time to see a strand of drool hit her boot. "Thanks, girl," she said drily, wiping her foot on a grassy tuft. The dog smacked her lips.

Alistair finished pulling out the internal organs, the entrails glistening in the evening light. "Do we need those?" Caden called over. Alistair looked back at her, Morrigan looked to the entrails and wrinkled her nose. "No need when we have the rest of the carcass." He said as Morrigan shook her head. "Do you want them?" he asked Caden.

"Not me," she nodded to the mabari who was holding herself back by Caden with everything in her. Alistair couldn't help but smile at the clear eagerness of the hound and how well she was behaving herself in the face of such a feast.

"She's welcome to them." He finished propping open the empty body with sticks and then dragged the canvas onto which the entrails had been gathered further away from the body. "Will you give me a hand with this?"

Caden nodded. "Ok girl, don't gorge yourself." The mabari licked her lips and then bounded over to the body parts, digging in.

Morrigan's frown deepened. "That," she said imperiously. "is disgusting."

Caden shrugged. "Maybe, but she's so happy." She went to Alistair, who had cleaned out the cavity as much as possible. "What's next?"

"We're going to hang him up on a tree and allow the body to drain." Alistair explained. "Can you pass me that rope?"

Caden complied with the request and together they strung up the carcass, levering it up onto a strong branch of a tree, so the beast could hang down. They secured the rope tightly. "Now what?" Caden asked. The entire process was oddly fascinating to her.

"Now we wait," Alistair said. "Shouldn't take too long; those shots to the neck hastened the blood loss so I'll check it in an hour."

"Alright." Caden nodded. She clenched her hands into fists and released them. Suddenly she didn't know what do with herself. "How do you know how to do that?" She asked as they walked back to the fire.

Alistair lowered himself down, wiping his hands on a cloth. "I've been on a few hunts. Back when I lived at Redcliffe, before I was sent to the Chantry and then again after joining the Wardens. I may only have been small at Redcliffe, but Eamon was keen to take me along. This was before his son was born, of course. And later, King Cailan was always eager to invite the Wardens along to join the Royal Hunt," Alistairs face became shadowed as he thought of this. Caden sat down so that she could see him and so she could still see the mabari out of the corner of her eye. "Wardens are expected to go all over the country on various missions and sometimes for recruitment purposes. We're taught the basics in survival; how to hunt and dress our kills, what constitutes a healing herb, what is to be avoided, how to forage. Can't have a Warden dropping down dead after ingesting something deadly, after all; we're all that stands between the world and the Blight." His voice wavered; Caden could read anger in those words and yet his tone was edged with sorrow and stress at being the last two Wardens in Ferelden and the pressure they were under. All Caden could think was that she missed out on so much more than she had thought. There was still so much she didn't know.

"I want to learn," Caden said softly. Alistair looked from the fire to her, surprised. "Any vital Warden lessons I missed... I want to learn them all. If... if you don't mind teaching me that is. I learn fast."

Alistair shrugged. "Well, that was lesson one, I guess. You seem pretty light on your feet, I bet you could sneak up most animals, but that's never been my strong suit. My trick of sitting and waiting for something to cross my path often means going hungry. I certainly didn't expect that big fellow to wander along, and position himself so nicely for a kill; I was hoping for a rabbit or maybe a pheasant. We got lucky today, so please don't expect venison for dinner every night." He chuckled lightly. "I've probably reached the extent of my skills when it comes to hunting: sheer luck and a good shot. Other Wardens stuck to trapping their prey, but I've never gotten the hang of that." He lifted his left hand and showed Caden the profile of his fingers. His middle finger was the same height as his ring finger, missing the top part where the nail sat. Caden raised her eyebrows. "Me and fiddly traps? Not exactly friends."

Morrigan snorted from her position on the other side of the fire. Alistair shot her a withering look and tucked his hand out of sight again. Caden felt a warm body lie down beside her and she reached down to stroke along the mabaris fur. She was evidently sated, licking her feet and her chest clean after her meal. Alistair glanced over at the dog.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" he asked, keen to move the conversation away from his loss of fingertip to anything else.

Caden looked down at the brown and black creature beside her. "I don't have any ideas." She confessed. "I've never named anything before, so I'm at a loss."

"Oh, it's easy enough," Alistair said. "You just look at her and see what suits. Or you pick something you already love and give it to her as a name. Eamon once let me name that year’s batch of foals. He told me that it was because I knew them best as I was living in the stables at that point, but really I think he just wanted to help me feel important." He smiled at the memory. "There were five foals born that year and it wasn't until the fourth that they realised I was naming them all after types of cheese." He laughed softly. "There weren't any complaints at first; I gave them all the best names available." Alistair grinned as he reminisced. "Applewood was the first one, which I thought was the least obvious. Hafter Blue, I think they thought he was being named after the river, not the cheese. Honnleath Hop, got a few raised eyebrows. It wasn't until I got too bold and named the fourth foal after a more local cheese that I was rumbled. Redliffe farms make a fantastic Red Sage, but no Redcliffe cheese store would be without it, so I was found out."

"How old were you?" Caden asked, not quite comfortable enough to bring up his casual mentions of how he was overlooked, hidden out of sight and then finally sent away by the nobles in charge of his care. It seemed horrible to her, but Alistair made it sound normal. It was bizarre to think of shems being so casually unfair to their own kind, but maybe it was in fact totally ordinary.

"This was right before I was sent to the Chantry, so I’d just turned ten." Alistair replied. "I mean, what did they expect giving a kid the chance to name a whole herd of horses? What else was I going to name them?" He shook his head fondly. "What would your ten-year-old self have come up with?"

Caden started at the question. "I don't know. Not cheese." She knew that much. "I guess I would have given them names from one of my books."

"So, why not stick with that for your dog?" Alistair suggested. Caden wrinkled her nose at the thought. Those books were children’s fairytales, none of which seem appropriate for a war dog and besides, those books were all back at Ostagar. She didn't really want the reminder of how she lost them and the other items. She stopped stroking the dog and pressed her hands beneath her thighs on the ground, tucking herself together.

"No, I don't think so." She said finally. Alistair was watching her with what looked like sympathy and she didn't care for it. "Is it time for the next part?" She asked nodding to the hanging deer carcass. Alistair went to check.

"Sure, why not. Do you want to help?"

Caden got to her feet, ready to work.

 

*

 

It was late afternoon the next day when they crested a hill on the road that led into Lothering. The air took on a chill as they approached and Caden tugged her cloak a little closer. Alistair was carrying extra weight on this final trek to the village, having packed up the meat and hide of their previous days kill. They had left the bones for scavengers, except for one which the still unnamed mabari was carrying in her mouth, already half chewed.

Caden ran her hands along her matted hair, and pulled up her hood. The heavens had opened and a light rain was falling down on them. The dog stopped and shook, spraying Cadens leg with water from her coat. Caden couldn't help but smile. On their final push towards the village, they came across some herbs growing along the roadside and despite the weather, Morrigan insisted on picking some. Not wanting to pull out the book that Flemeth had given her and risk the water damaging it, Caden instead sidled up to the witch to be quizzed on the plants. She managed to correctly identify elfroot, and Morrigan schooled her on the name of the tall flower with a red blush at the centre. "Embrium." Morrigan explained. "The scent has some healing potency and you can brew it up with elfroot to make healing potions."

"Wow," Caden said, genuinely impressed. That these plants had such valuable properties seemed bewildering to her. If they knew about this back at the Alienage, if they'd cultivated a garden of herbs and had someone with the skill to brew them... how many elves would still be alive today? Before she could dive into gloom, thinking of Adaia, Caden moved over to some bright white flowers with a vast quantity of thin petals overlapping each other and plucked a few. "What about these?"

Morrigan scoffed at the sight. "Those are weeds. Leave them there."

As the witch moved off to collect some moss from a nearby tree, Caden frowned down at her handful of weeds. They looked so pretty and clean out here. While Morrigans back was turned, Caden opened a small, empty pouch in the pocket of her Warden armour and slipped the flowers inside. The pouch beside it held the flowers she'd gathered from the Wilds, the honey smelling ones. Those might have had healing value, but to Cadens eyes they were all equally beautiful and therefore worthy of collection. She patted her belt as she stood, catching Alistair's eye and looking away at once. She didn't need him to think she was being stupid over flowers of all things. An urge gripped her, to upend the open pouches and scatter the blossoms to the wind, but she held firm. She was keeping them.

The way towards the village looked empty at first glance, but as they reached the first structure and entered a covered gateway, men appeared on the road before them. Caden looked across them, searching for heraldry, announcing them as being guards of the village, but instead she saw a motley group of men, all wearing different, patchwork armour. She frowned and Alistair leaned in close. "Be careful."

One man stepped forward. "Good afternoon to you all." He said, jovially. "Oh, are you an elf?"

Caden glanced at Alistair, who was glaring back at them with narrowed eyes. "Um, yes. Who are you?" she replied after a moment.

"We are the self-appointed protectors of this here village," the man went on, speaking boldly and spreading his arms wide to display the village behind him. "We can't let just anyone in. There are bad sorts all over the place don't you know?"

Caden shrugged. "So, we've heard. We come with dire news from Ostagar."

"You and all the rest," the man said, a shadow crossing over his eyes. "That's why we're here; the Arl took his men and rode north. Refugees flooding the town, not enough space, not enough of anything. There's no-one here to protect them or keep the gates preserved. And we need funding for that."

"Are you saying you're toll collectors?" Alistair asked, his tone incredulous. The man chuckled and his hands dropped to rest oh so casually over his sword hilt at his hip.

"If you like." He said. "10 silvers to pass."

Caden pulled back, not dignifying that with a serious response. "No." She said simply, as if the very idea was preposterous. Her mabari growled low beside her. Morrigan deftly slipped her staff off her back as if to lean upon it, but Caden knew she was readying herself. Caden slipped her hood off, pushing the cloak further over her shoulders, ready to draw her swords at a moment’s notice.

"We are Grey Wardens," Alistair said, stepping up beside Caden. "On official business. Please move on and let us do our duty."

A ripple of unease spread through the men before them, the bandits. Caden watched as the leader zeroed in on her again, his gaze stony. "I don't care who you," he said through gritted teeth. "Everybody pays the damn toll."

In one movement he had pulled his sword free from its scabbard, as the rest of his men sprang into action. Caden dove forward, her eyes fixed on the leader, her mabari at her heels. To the left she felt the billowing heat of flames as Morrigan used her magic to set a pair of men alight. They screamed as Caden brought up her swords to parry the downward swing of the bandit leader. Her dog pounced, burying her teeth in the mans thigh. He bit back a scream and Caden pushed her swords up, sliding his sword off, unbalancing the man, while his attention was on the wound being inflicted by the war hound. When an opening appeared, Caden kicked his other leg, dropping him to the ground. Behind him one of the other bandits flew a short distance, then crashed into a barricade of barrels they had erected. The barrel broke, seeping the bitter tang of pickled fish onto the stones. The bandit leader howled as the mabari ground her teeth across his bone. The smell of the contents of the barrel hit Cadens nose, causing her to reel back, but she kept her sword on the leader, stamping onto his wrist and kicking his weapon away when he dropped it.

To her right Alistair used his shield to bash another bandit to the ground. Caden stayed still, her and her dog standing over the man on the ground before her. It felt good to fight again instead of hide. She could see the mans pulse jumping in his throat, his eyes widening as the mabari growled around his flesh. His gaze met hers, desperation evident in the dark irises.

"You wanted 10 silvers, right?" Caden asked. The fight was over already and the other bandits, those that were not dead or unconscious, were pulling away from the Wardens and Morrigan. "How many people did you steal from on their way through?"

"I... er...."

"Where's the money?" She barked, casting her gaze around the various crates and boxes on the bridge. She looked back to his belt, where pouches and purses hung. She dove into a crouch, the bandit leader moving swiftly to cover himself, fearful of attack. She threw him a withering look, wholly uninterested in the contents of his smallclothes, and placed down one sword to tug at the belt pouches.

"Hey, stop... come on, let's talk about this." The bandit started. The mabari growled louder, drowning him out. Caden ignored him and successfully freed the small sacks from the belt. She tucked them into her belt. “Those are—"

"Those aren't yours." Caden said, standing. Spitefully, having been given the idea by the man himself, she waited until he pulled his hands away from his crotch, then dug her toe into his sensitive flesh and made him howl. "Be grateful we aren't going to kill you as well."

"I never made such an agreement." Morrigan said archly. Caden glanced at her. The witches amber eyes were shining with malice. She held out her free hand, fingers curved upward and a spark of flame burst in her palm.

"Well, then." Caden said taking back her sword and stepping back. The mabari released the bandit leader and came to stand beside her mistress. "Leave your weapons and start running."

The bandits glanced at each other, none quite sure what to make of this. "Quickly," Caden snapped, her voice rising. "Before she finishes casting her spell." The corner of Morrigans mouth twitched and she started muttering under her breath. Now the bandits picked up urgency, hastily unbuckling straps and dropping swords and bows on the floor. Caden watched the bandit leader stand, wincing as he put weight on his leg. He glared back at her as he tugged out a dagger from his boot and tossed it to her feet. The evening sunlight winked off the blade, reminding her so much of the knife she'd lost. Before the leader had made a move to leave, she reached down and picked it up. Her boots had no place for this knife, but for now she tucked it into her belt, feeling its hard shape against her hip.

Morrigan shot off a warning flare and the bandits bolted, falling over each other in their haste to leave. Soon all that remained were the slightly crispy bodies of the bandits Morrigan had fried and another two unconscious men. Caden stepped over them to reach the boxes, pulling off the first lid to peer inside. "This is food." She said, moving to the next box and opening the next. "Food." She carried on going, opening every crate, every sack. "It's all food. They've been hoarding it here and forcing people to pay their toll." Anger blazed through her and Caden turned, driving her heel into the face of the nearest bandit, out cold on the stones. "You bastards!"

"Caden!" Alistair, having just sheathed his sword and replaced his shield, started forward, reaching his hand for her. She snatched her arm away from him and kicked the defenceless bandit. "Stop!"

"They've kept food back," Caden exclaimed, her eyes wild. "From people who need it." Alistair looked down at the target of her ire. The bandit was bleeding from fresh wounds; a smashed nose and a split lip.

"I know, it's awful," Alistair said, his hand up, palm open. "But you can't just take it out on him. He can't fight back."

"Nobody can fight back when they're starving," Caden countered, her voice cracking. "That's why they do it."

Understanding and empathy altered Alistairs expression, but Caden had to turn away from it. "We have to get this to the townsfolk." She said quietly.

"How?" Morrigans question cut through the embarrassment Caden was feeling for her loss of control. The witch was surveying the masses of crates surrounding them on the bridge. There was no way all three could carry it all back. Caden felt a stab of dejection as she realised this fact.

"I...don't..."

"We'll tell the town," Alistair said assertively. "They can come and get it. Alright?"

Caden nodded, patting her thigh so her dog pressed against her as she walked into the town.

 

*

 

Caden, her dog and her fury headed into Lothering. Every footstep was an angry stomp, but that ire started to wane as she took in her surroundings. The location of the town was pretty enough, but everywhere she looked there were tents, people crowded around each other, with their belongings in sacks and boxes nearby. This wasn’t a town of residents; this place was full of the displaced. Alistair stepped beside her. “I guess they know what happened at Ostagar.”

Caden turned to him. “Why are they all here? Where did they come from?”

“Probably from the various farms and villages surrounding Lothering.” Alistair shrugged. “They didn’t feel safe with the horde running around unchecked so they came to the closest, biggest place in the hope that they would find a safe place.”

They continued to walk through the town. Down one side street Caden spied a woman handing out bowls of soup to a line of children. The children were hurrying back to adults once they had their bowlful, but Caden watched one set of parents decline the offer of a spoonful from their child. It was a sacrifice she had seen before and her heart clenched. She started forward, but Alistair stepped between her and the soup woman. She glanced at him, curious and annoyed. “Let’s find whoever’s in charge to tell them about the food stores, alright?”

Caden peered around him at the woman who was smiling down at a pair of twins as she ladled their broth into waiting bowls. She needed the food Caden and her companions had secured; that soup looked more water than substance. Alistair nodded his head towards the town square. Rather than argue, Caden mutely followed.

“That bandit seemed to think the Arl has fled.” Morrigan pointed out as they walked. She was looking around at the townsfolk with curiosity rather that outright sorrow or anger as Caden was feeling. “Who do you suppose we should hope to find in charge as you say?”

Alistairs shoulders tensed at her questioning. “I don’t know, but there will be someone.”

“Not someone with the means to dispose of bandits.” Morrigan remarked. “Or else we would not have had to do that.”

Caden watched Alistairs jaw tighten. “Let’s just find out, shall we?”

They walked on towards the town square. They passed a tavern with a swinging sign that read Danes Refuge. Camped outside was what looked similar to the healers tents back at Ostagar, and with a glance Caden could see people tending to injuries for yet more refugees. It seemed highly fitting that the pub was named so.

At the centre of town there was an open space shadowed over by a Chantry building. It was that building that Alistair made a beeline for, with Caden and Morrigan bringing up the rear with much less enthusiasm. As they drew closer the sound of cries pierced the air. The mabari whined and Caden peered through a small gaggle of folk clustered around the sound of the noise, which was coming from a dishevelled looking man in battered armour. He was yelling, arms gesticulating wildly. Caden broke away from Alistair and Morrigan and with her dog beside her, she approached the crowd.

“Listen, I beg of you all!” the soldier cried. “It’s too late! The horde approaches like black death!”

“Please, hush,” a woman beseeched, clutching a pale child to her. “You’re frightening the children.”

Caden pushed through the people watching the spectacle, their expressions veering from terror to weary acceptance to outright fury.

“I cannot be silenced!” He went on, heedless. “The children need to hear this, too; your parents cannot save you, none can now! The horde killed everyone while I watched and it would be kinder to bash their brains in now than let them suffer!”

A shuddered cry rippled through the crowd. Caden felt her eyes harden as she took in the frightened image of the children, and she shoved through, heading for the man. “Hey—!”

Caden began to speak up to interrupt his diatribe, but before she could reach him, a fist dove out of nowhere, driving into the face of the soldier. He crumpled to the ground as a soldier in different garb stood over him, glaring down at him. The woman shook her hand and looked at the crowd. “Annoying guy.” She said, with a sniff, wincing. He nose looked broken and there was a bloody bruise across the bridge, a gash of bright red over the womans dark skin. Caden looked up and met the soldiers gaze. The woman narrowed her eyes back at her. “Grey Warden?”

Momentarily frozen by the action of this solider, Caden just nodded mutely. The woman raised one eyebrow, then took her tender fist in hand and stumbled away from the group. Caden watched her go, but then Alistair nodded towards the Chantry, where a small group of Templars were spilling out, and the woman was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song Prey by The Neighbourhood.


	17. Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caden meets a soldier from the kings army.

** Soldier **

_Quiet now, you're gonna wake the beast_

 

While Alistair directed the Templars and knights to the food cache they had recovered and Morrigan secreted herself somewhere unseen to Cadens eye, the elf Warden was drawn instead to the soldier who had laid out the raving man outside the Chantry. She found the woman sitting beside a barrel, one arm in a sling and with her good hand dipped into the chill waters within. Caden nodded towards her arm, disappearing into the wooden container. “How’s your hand?”

The soldier gave a wry grin. “It’s been better.” She said. “Mind you, it’s a nice change of pace to focusing on my damn nose.” Her dark eyes crossed briefly and she winced. “Or my stupid shoulder. Or the other aches and breaks and bruises and cuts. All thanks to the darkspawn.” She shook out her hair, the riotous tight curls contained into tight braids along her scalp before bursting free at the back of her head.

Caden felt a twinge of interest. “Wait, were you at Ostagar?”

“I was,” she nodded, pulling her hand out of the water and shaking the drops off. “I was with the kings army.” Her face darkened as she flexed her hand into a tentative fist, testing its soreness. “I guess it’s a small mercy that I took a blow to my pretty face early on; meant I missed a lot of the horror show that battle must have been.”

“But…” Caden pressed gently. “You got away?” Until that moment Caden hadn’t even considered that there would have been any survivors from the battle. She had gotten the impression from Flemeth that the slaughter of the men and women at war had been absolute.

“Yeah,” the soldier nodded. “Me and some others. I woke up to find the battle was over and we were all on the menu.” She grimaced in a way that had nothing to do with physical aches and pains. “Fucking darkspawn. Thankfully they were too focused on their mealtime to pay much attention to me as I made a break from the field. Made it back here, to my family.” She looked up; her eyes distant. “Not many got that chance.” She sighed and looked back to Caden. “So, Warden, I’m surprised to see you here. Didn’t think any of your lot made it.”

Caden shrugged. “We were charged with lighting a beacon.” She explained, gesturing back towards the line of men and women lead by Alistair bearing food crates. “Me and Alistair. But we’re all that’s left.” She added sombrely. “Just us.”

The soldier considered this, cocking her head slightly as she took in Cadens words. “I know that feeling. My squadron was one hundred strong before the battle and now...” she shook her head sadly. “Could be only me left. I’m not even all that sure if anyone got away before I properly came to, or after. I hope they did. Failing that I hope they didn’t suffer.”

Caden didn’t really know what to say to that. She knew the fate of those left dead or alive on the field from what Flemeth had said, but to speak to someone from that particular nightmare situation was not something she had thought she would need to prepare for. She felt wholly unsuitable to hear this; what was this soldier after? Some sympathy or words of wisdom? Caden had none. But she did have questions, even if a voice in the back of her mind told her it was insensitive to ask. “Did you see what happened to the King?”

The soldiers eyes slowly panned back to meet Cadens gaze. She didn’t look angry to be asked. She didn’t really look like she was feeling anything; she just looked hollow. “I didn’t see him die, but I saw his remains.” She replied after a moment. “It was bad.” She gave a sniff and stood up from her seat beside the water barrel. “Anyway. Fuck it. Do you fancy a drink?”

A sudden snort of laughter fell out of Caden and she clapped her hand over her mouth in shock. The soldier didn’t seem to care, her mouth quirking at the edges. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that.” Caden said hastily. “I, er… maybe later? We came from the Wilds, to tell people to get out of Lothering. I feel like I should probably actually start telling people before I sit down with a drink.”

“Sensible.” The soldier replied. “I’ve been telling them to go and some have, but some remain. Stubborness, disbelief… some just have nowhere to go. I figure it can’t hurt to have another voice from the battlefield to push some more folk out, but listen, Warden,” the soldier leaned down suddenly intense; Caden was struck by her tallness, her broad shoulders, “some folk won’t leave no matter how compelling your argument. I don’t want to dissuade you, but don’t spend energy on those people. Find the people who are going to listen or who are on the fence about going. Forget the others. Sometimes people will plant themselves in the path of a raging fire and you cannot move them.” Caden swallowed and nodded, moved by the force in the soldiers words. She clapped her hand on Cadens shoulder. “I’ll be in the pub.” She made to leave but Caden called to her before she disappeared into the tavern.

“Hold on,” she said. The soldier turned back, interested. “Can you point me in the direction of the Alienage here, please?” The soldier nodded and turned, extending her finger Westerly.

“No Alienage here, we’re too small.” The soldier said. “But the elves tend to stick together and they’re down that way.”

“Thank you.” That was interesting. Elves living in a town without an Alienage. “I’m Caden.” Inwardly she considered her lack of manners, shoving the introduction at the end of her interaction with the soldier.

The soldier smiled toothily, then turned to the pub, throwing back over her shoulder: “Call me Hawke.” And then she pushed into the Danes Refuge, leaving Caden with the choice of seeking out Alistair or pursuing her gut and heading to her people. She found herself heading west though the village.  

 

*

 

Alistair set down the last crate and brushed his hands with a sense of great satisfaction as he straightened up. This food was badly needed and he had helped bring it to the people. It was a good feeling indeed. Ser Bryant, the Templar who appeared to have taken charge and had seemed the most aware of the bandit activity, was surveying the haul. He turned to his small group of helpers, some in Templar armour, many more dressed in plain clothes. “We’ll store this here in the Chantry for now,” he declared thoughtfully. “I think that’s best so there is one location for it all. Get the word out; let the people know where to come for rations and we’ll portion it out accordingly. I don’t want anyone coming with proprietary complaints. There’s no way to verify if any of this previously belonged to anyone, and they all have to eat, so as of now this food is the property of the whole town.” Alistair found himself nodding along with the words of the senior Templar. It seemed sensible, and that was most important during these dire times. “Those who are ready to leave, we’ll help package up their portion.”

Alistair was pleased to hear that there were plans in place to those ready to evacuate. To his eyes, the village seemed to be firmly rooted, with no-one looking to leave. He had impressed upon Ser Bryant the urgency of getting the refugees and residents to move on as soon as possible, though notably without assistance from Caden.

He’d almost yelled out when he realised, she had drifted off somewhere. That Morrigan was nowhere to be found didn’t bother him and in fact seem to make sense, that she wouldn’t hang around as an Apostate, but noticing Cadens absence had hit him. It hadn’t seemed like a necessity to drive into Caden the need to stick together. It had just felt like common sense, but apparently Caden hadn’t stopped to consider that.

Or maybe she had, Alistair wondered, rubbing his forehead wearily. Hadn’t she been quite upfront about the fact that she was willing to learn what to do from him? Perhaps that was on him that she hadn’t stopped to think before going exploring.

Alistair watched the small team of helpers head out and followed them to the wide open Chantry doors, taking a moment to lean against the frame and look out to the sunshine bathed streets. His mind was still on his fellow Warden as he watched the inhabitants scurrying about the village, piecing themselves together as best they could. Alistair felt very unequipped to take her under his tutelage. It was, of course, expected for the most Junior Warden to take on the new recruits and he had done so willingly. His tasks of bringing them into the wilds to obtain the darkspawn blood, which felt so long ago, had been simple enough. Keep the recruits alive, let them draw the blood, give them a chance to see the darkspawn up close. Going through the Joining as a Warden had been tougher; watching Daveth die from the taint, seeing Ser Jory struck down. Even watching Caden successfully join the Wardens had been more gruelling to watch than he had expected. Everything had been so much simpler, even with the threat of the battle looming, but of course he had had Duncan.

To shoot from Junior Warden to the most Senior Warden in Ferelden after one horrible night had been unexpected. Losing Duncan… nothing compared to that. Now Alistair was in charge and he was not ready. A swell of sorrow welled inside him, and he blinked several times in quick succession to fight the tears that were threatening to spill.

Was he doing the right thing with Caden? Was she learning all she could learn with him? He felt a sharp stab of unease as he thought of her stumbling through the Wilds, half gone after taken those herbs to prevent darkspawn dreams. It felt like a misstep, perhaps done for the right reasons, but had he broken a fragile trust in doing so? Maybe that was asking too much already, that she trust him. They were getting somewhere in their strained relationship, but they were by no means friends.

Alistair sighed. This was quite a comedown from feeling satisfied by a job well done. He wished he hadn’t started reflected on his failures instead of basking in that sense of accomplishment. He pushed away from the doorframe and peered back into the dim light of the Chantry.

"Alistair? Is that you?" He turned about, searching for the owner of the voice. His eyes took a few moments to adjust and then his gaze settled on a familiar looking fellow in armour.

"Ser Donall?" Alistair asked, only mostly confident he had the right name.

"That's right," the knight nodded, reaching for Alistair and clasping his hand with a firm shake. "It's good to see you alive and well; I heard about the Wardens. Just horrible."

Alistair nodded grimly. He didn't particularly want to discuss that. Instead he decided to take advantage of the fact that Ser Donall came from Redcliffe. "What are you doing out here? I thought you would be with the rest of your forces at Redcliffe."

Ser Donalls eyebrows flickered together for a moment in confusion. "Haven't you heard? Well, I guess you've probably not gotten much news where you were. Not lately at any rate. Arl Eamon has taken ill."

"What?" Alistair felt his chest constrict. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nobody knows." Ser Donall explained. "But the Arlessa has sent us out on a mission to help him. We're pretty scattered right now, so I hope you weren't expecting to find an army at Redcliffe."

Which of course is exactly what Alistair had been hoping for. That and to sit down and discuss everything with Eamon. It was one blow after another. He gritted his teeth and sighed. "We're heading there. I suppose it's better to be forewarned about this. How bad is he?" Alistair only hesitated a moment before asking that loaded question. He wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

Ser Donall looked grim. "Well, he's not doing well. I'd... not linger here if I were you."

Alistair swallowed as he nodded in response, unable to speak. First Duncan and the Wardens and now...? It didn't bear thinking about that the man who raised him as a boy might be dying. He couldn't let that happen, not before they'd gotten a chance to speak at least. He nodded to Ser Donall again, then turned and headed out of the Chantry. He had to find Caden and get a move on.

 

*

 

Caden and the mabari walked down the path, almost out of the village entirely. There were no walls containing the elves of Lothering, but neither were they fully part of the village it seemed. Her heart grew heavier with each step. Was it like this everywhere? Better, arguably, than Denerim, yet never entirely without fault? Separated in some way from the rest of whatever location they were at? The mabari snapped at the air, trying to snatch a bothersome fly that was buzzing around her head. Caden absentmindedly dropped her hand onto her head, giving the dog a scratch.

A burst of sound came from between two houses as a flurry of small children ran out, giggling and shouting. Caden stopped sharply so as not to run into them, but one little girl wasn't paying attention and as she ran she looked back over her shoulder, yelling some taunt to her chasers and she ran right into Cadens legs. Caden stayed upright, but the girl tumbled back onto her bum on the ground. "Are you alright?" Caden asked. The mabari cocked her head.

The girl looked up, her laughter frozen on her face, before it slid away to be replaced by wonder. "You... are you a Grey Warden?"

Caden looked down at herself, impressed that this armour marked her so obviously as one of the order and nodded. "How did you know?"

A boy who looked a little older than the girl, but very similar in looks walked up beside her, helping her to her feet. "They passed through a few weeks ago, on their way south. Stayed in the village." He explained. "They all wore stuff like that. But..."

"But what?" Caden pressed gently.

"They were all humans." He finished. "I've never seen an elf grey Warden."

"Well, now you have." Caden replied, announcing her title with pride for the first time to these awed children. "I'm Warden Tabris, but you can call me Caden. It’s nice to meet you." A chorus of greetings returned and the girl who'd run into her got to her feet. "Are you alright?" Caden asked her. She nodded.

"Sorry." the girl said. "I wasn't looking."

"Too busy playing?" Caden asked with the start of a wry smile spreading. The girl grinned back. "Don't let me stop you. But, listen, where are the elders? I need to speak to them."

The girl turned and pointed to one house. "They're having a meeting. They have a lot of those lately. Can I pet your dog?"

Caden blinked at the sudden question. Her mabari sat down as if she knew what the question meant and she opened her mouth to pant, her tongue lolling over her teeth in what looked like a goofy grin. Caden chuckled softly. "Sure. Don't try to ride her or pull her around and I'm sure she'll be fine."

"What's her name?" the girl asked, as the kids as one descended on the mabari with pats and scratches.

"Don't know," Caden replied, heading for the house. "She hasn't told me yet."

 

*

 

"Caden!" Alistair exclaimed, awash with relief as he spied her walking towards him over the bridge. "There you are!"

She looked up, bemusement on her features. Evidently, she hadn't been looking for him all this time. Somehow that didn't exactly come as a surprise to Alistair. "I've been looking for you all over." He said, unnecessarily. That was almost certainly obvious. She stopped before him, the dog standing alert beside her. It seemed as though that dog had always been at Cadens side, rather than a road side stray she had recently adopted. "Where have you been?"

Caden turned and pointed back the way she had come, which was vastly unhelpful as Alistair could clearly tell what direction she had appeared from, but he bit back the grimace and the sigh he felt. "What's that way?"

"The elves." she said simply.

Of course, she had sought out her own people. It should have been obvious, and yet he had to ask: "Lothering doesn't have an Alienage, does it? I thought it was too small?"

"No, they don't. but the elves stick together and generally live that way, a little on the outskirts." Caden explained patiently.

"I would have thought they would want to integrate a little more." Alistair mused. "Given they don't have to live in an Alienage here." He glanced down at Caden and watched as a glower sparked in her eyes. Damn.

"We didn't _have_ to live in an Alienage back at Denerim," she said, sounding like she was speaking through gritted teeth. "But on the whole it was safer to live within those walls."

Alistair nodded, but that just seemed to continue to annoy Caden. "Humans still came into the Alienage and treated us badly. I was kidnapped from there. Nelaros died." She paused, letting that sink in. "So just imagine how much worse it would have to be to live outside for me to say life was better in the Alienage." She shifted where she stood, her hands balling into fists. The mabari picked up on her shift in stature and stood to attention, casting glances at her mistress. Alistair watched Caden bristle, physically appearing as though her hackles were raising, as if she were the hound. He kept his mouth shut. "And before all that there were the taxes on living there. And if we had moved out, to be closer to jobs or whatever, nobody wanted to rent properties to us. I knew friends who tried life in the city outside the Alienage and who ended up back with us, up to their eyeballs in debt." She sighed harshly. "I can see why they stick together here. I wouldn't want to live out here, away from my kin. No way." Caden didn't seem to be speaking to Alistair anymore; she seemed to be sounding out injustices as if they were obvious, which they were to her. This sounded like an inner stream of conscious spoken out loud. One thing stood out however.

"Was Nelaros your husband?" Alistair asked. Caden snapped her eyes to his face, shock writ on her face. Ah, so she hadn't meant to give that morsel away. She bit her lip and nodded jerkily.

"Yes." she admitted quietly, the fight draining from her. Alistair hesitated for a moment before seizing the moment and pressing on.

"Look, I understand that the humans you've had experiences with all your life have been horrible." He said carefully. Speaking with Caden always came with risk and he had no idea if he would set her off again. "And I'm really sorry for your loss. I promise that to me you are an equal team mate, a fellow Warden. And just because you're an elf and I'm a human, doesn't mean I'll treat you any differently than I would have treated any of my previous..." his voice caught and he coughed to clear the sudden lump. "the others. The Wardens. I won't be like the other humans you knew. I promise."

"I know." Caden said, wearily rubbing her palm over her face. "You're trying and I appreciate that.

I do."

Alistair was momentarily lost for words, something he had little experience with during his lifetime. As relieved as he was not to have spurred Cadens ire further again, this was unexpected. Would he ever have a conversation with Caden where he wouldn't feel wrong footed at any given opportunity? Still, he wouldn't complain about the direction this was going in. He gathered his thoughts and nodded towards the pub. "So, I don't suppose you've seen Morrigan at all? I was thinking of heading to the tavern. I don't suppose they'll have rooms if there are people camped out, but we can see." They started walking towards Danes Refuge and Alistairs thoughts kept coming, as if he were making up for the brief silence before. "I found an armoury in the village dropped off my shield to collect tomorrow. The damn strap broke in our fight with those bandits, so that'll be good to get fixed." He dropped his tone. "We really should be heading out tomorrow as soon as I've collected it really; I've spoken with someone I know and he reports that Eamon is unwell, so best not delay here."

Caden said nothing as they walked. They came to the gate to the garden surrounding the pub, devoid of any visible plant life; it looked as though the only crop the garden was yielding was displaced folk in tented accommodation. Alistair cast his gaze around the tents. "Poor sods. I suppose that's an option for us if we can't find space in the pub, though I was really hoping for a bed if I'm honest. How about you?"

He turned back to Caden. She looked up at him with dark blue eyes that gave nothing away. "As long as I don't have to take any herbal concoctions, I don't care where I sleep."

Alistair felt his face flood with shame. He couldn't blame her for being unhappy about that; he had hated that they had to do it, but it had been crucial to their survival in the Wilds. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he tried to find the words to tell her that, but she moved on, heading through the gate. The sun was starting its descent, turning the light around them orange, casting shadows where before there had been none. Alistair swallowed and headed after Caden. "So, ah... you still have the money, right?"

It was intended as a light joke to temper the mood. It was a throwaway comment really, not a serious concern. And yet.

Caden turned back her brows knit in confusion. "No." She said. Alistair blinked.

"Wait, what?" They were at the pubs doorway now, but both were frozen on the threshold, neither reaching for the door. "Where is it?"

"I didn't think we needed it." Caden said slowly. "I gave it to the elves."

"Why in the Makers name did you do that?" He barked in reply, watching her hold very still as if she were fighting the urge to flinch.

She opened her mouth, but for a moment or two nothing came out. Her eyes were focussed and firm, though her lip quivered, belying her assertiveness. "We’ve got food and supplies and a tent to sleep in. They needed to get out of Lothering and they didn't have the means." She finally said, evenly. "I gave them the money so they could get to Highever."

"Highever?" Alistair exclaimed. "That's probably the furthest place you could have sent them. What was wrong with Redcliffe or South Reach? Or Den--" He broke off realising why not there.

Caden took a shaky breath. "They needed to get as far away from here as possible and Highever was the only place I know of where elves don't get such a bad deal."

Alistair closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Caden, honestly... I let you keep that money because I assumed you would look after it. Not give it away to the first people with a sob story. My shield's at the armourer. Without funds, I can't get it back. You can't just give that money away; it didn't belong to you."

When he opened his eyes he could see something at war in Cadens. "That money didn't belong to you, either." She spat, each word punctuated by a harsh breath. Her chest was rising and falling with speed and there were spots of colour in her cheeks that he could see in spite of the fading light. "I gave it back to the people it was stolen from, people it would help. Nobody else would think to aid them and I could. And you didn’t _let_ me keep that money; I’m the one who took it back from the thieves!"

Alistair gritted his teeth. His patience was practically non-existent with his hunger and fatigue dragging him down. He didn’t need this. "Yes, well, that's very noble of you, but if we don't fund this mission ourselves, nobody will get any aid at all, will they? If I can't get my shield back and I get hurt on the road to Redcliffe, that's bad. If we can't feed ourselves, that's bad. If we can't afford healing potions, that's bad. Do you understand?" He knew his tone was verging on condescending, but he was just so worn down. He knew she didn't know how the Wardens worked and had never travelled before; that didn't make it any easier to deal with a crisis like this, and he didn't have the patience to talk her through it any kinder than this right now.

"I thought the role of the Grey Wardens was to help people." Caden bit back sarcastically. "I helped."

Alistair felt himself tip over into frustration. "You have to look at the bigger picture." He burst out. "We're it. You and me, that's all Ferelden have to rely on. Without us there is no more Ferelden, so we have to put us first sometimes. Don't you get that?"

Caden looked like she very much wanted to hit him, but instead she broke eye contact and turned to the door of the pub. "I get it. The greater good is more important than helping vulnerable people evacuate. The greater good means drugging someone half out of their mind. Oh, and don’t forget about killing people who have doubts about Joining in the first place." Her lips were drawn back over her teeth as she spat these words. "Such a noble order."

Alistair felt a sharp jolt of fury at her words, each one cutting deeply, but she was pushing the door and disappearing into the pub so he followed her, a red mist fogging his view. "Caden, wait. Just stop!"

His shout drew attention and before they'd walked a few paces through the busy pub, he heard the scrape of chairs on the wooden floor. Caden hadn't appeared to notice that a number of soldiers had stood up and were watching them with intense faces. Alistair glanced from one to the other; they bore the heraldry of Gwaren. Logahins men. A cold feeling of dread slipped down his spine. He suddenly missed his shield very much. "Caden, wait," he murmured, quieter now, wanting to reach for her, but holding back. She whirled on him, still angry.

"What? You want to tell me again how stupid I am, how little I know?" She snapped, but she cut off her tirade as she took in his worried expression. "What?"

"Gentlemen," Alistair nodded cordially to the knights, though his blood was rushing with adrenaline and righteous fury. These were the men who'd abandoned their king and fellow country men and women to die on the field. He felt an unfamiliar urge to exact brutal revenge on each and every one of them.

"Ho there, Grey Wardens." One knight said. "Everyone take a look here and see the last of a dying breed."

Alistair frowned. He itched to reach for his sword, but held fast. Waiting. Caden stepped a little closer to him, eyeing them warily. Her mabari growled quietly, sensing the tension.

Another knight walked around his table, oh so casually. "We've been looking for you. Just the two of you is it?"

"It is," Alistair said carefully. "We made it out of Ostagar, but barely."

"Shame." The first knight said. "You should have died with your brothers on the field. Died with the rest of the traitors."

Alistair felt a heavy ball of horror drop into his stomach. "What?"

"You heard me." The knight snarled. "Traitors to the king, every one of you."

Before either Warden had a chance to respond, the first knight yelled: "We're going to rectify that oversight tonight boys. Death to the Grey Wardens!"

Alistair braced himself, one hand reaching for his sword as Caden pulled her blades free, but the blow never came. Instead a woman in Chantry robes stepped out, standing between them and Loghains knights, arms raised in a peaceful gesture.

"Gentlemen please," she said in an accented voice. "Now is not the time for fighting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from a song by Fleurie. 
> 
> Late posting, oops, though I'm sure no-one will notice if I don't mention it...(!)


	18. All That We Get

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tavern fight introduces Leliana to the party

** All That We Get **

_If I know anything, it's nothing goes as planned_

 

"Can we all just take a second and calm down, please," the sister said.

Caden tightened her grip on the hilts of her blades, but made no move to leap into the fray; she wasn't about to cut down a holy woman in order to reach her enemy and besides she had questions for them. "What do you mean the Grey Wardens are traitors?"

The knight, his hand also apparently stayed by the presence of the Chantry sister, growled at her in response. "You betrayed the king, you and your kind. He trusted you!"

Caden felt Alistair's rage before he even spoke. The edge of anger in his voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck. "How dare you. The Grey Wardens _died_ on the field defending the king. They died awaiting the aid of Teryn Loghains men. Men who never arrived."

"The Grey Wardens did nothing to bring harm to the king," Caden chimed in, her voice smaller compared with Alistairs.

“Teryn Loghain was forced to quit the battle due to the actions of your Wardens.” Another knight spoke up angrily.

“Loghain never lead his charge, how do you explain that?” Alistair snapped. “Did he suddenly remember he had an urgent engagement elsewhere I wonder? Where is he now?”

The sister turned to him, hands still up between the two groups. “Teryn Loghain indeed claims that the Grey Wardens betrayed the king. He has returned to Denerim to the queen, to ostensibly aid her in ruling.”

“How convenient for him.” Alistair spat.

Caden’s head was spinning as she tried to make sense of it all. “So what? He’s acting king? And telling people that we’re to blame for King Cailans death?”

“There’s a bounty on your heads.” The first knight snarled, then he addressed his men: “Take them into custody. We’ll drag them back to the capital for trial.” He glanced from Alistair to Caden. “And execution.”

Caden laughed. She couldn’t help it; the noise just erupted, tinged with hysteria. Back to Dererim and back to her head on a block. Hadn’t she come so far? The knights frowned at her reaction.

“There’s no need for trouble,” the Chantry sister tried, her tone soothing, but the knight’s voice rose above hers.

"Step aside sister," the knight spat. "I will drag this pair out of this tavern in chains, so help me, and I will cut down anyone who chooses to stand in my way. Chantry or not."

"Looks like we will have to give them a fight after all," the sister murmured so only Caden could hear. "Are you ready?"

Caden clamped her mouth shut, the laughter silenced at once and nodded. The sister stepped aside allowing Caden to leap forward, darting her blades at the nearest knight, who fumbled, but blocked her swipes. The fight exploded all around her with a riot of noise; clashing blades, screams from the patrons who scrambled outside or out of the way, shouts from the tavern owner to stop. It all faded to just the knife edge, the sharp glint of her blades as they swung and jabbed. Her dog barked and snapped at the legs of the knight she was locked in combat with. Out of the corner of her eye there was a flash of colour as the sister joined the fight.

Caden saw a blade heading for her and parried without thinking. She was quick enough to block the first two swings, but the third caught her; the blade nicking her forehead, the knight being clearly unused to fighting someone significantly smaller than him. It was time to push that advantage and so she ducked under the arms of her assailant and as she spun around behind him, she thrust outwards with her blade, piercing his armour and slicing his side. He howled in pain and she twisted her blade until he dropped his. Then she kicked him off balance so that he fell face first to the ground. Now she could see the fighting—the bar patrons hurriedly heading up the stairs behind the bar. Caden could see the sister whirling with two blades and spattering the blood of the foes who were foolish enough to assume a Chantry sister knew nothing of fighting. In spite of herself, Caden was awed by the Sisters clear skill with her blades, not least because although she spilled her assailants’ blood, she merely dealt deep enough flesh wounds to stun them, rather than going in for the kill. The sheer beauty of her fighting form paled in comparison to that exact control she exuded over her blades. It was not something Caden had been taught, nor something she had much practise in so far. When she swung her swords it was always with death in mind.

The knight had struggled to his feet, but as he turned to face her again, Caden stabbed a blade into his thigh and her mabari pounced, clamping her strong jaws around the knights sword arm causing him to drop his weapon.

"Please, no more," he yelped in pain. "I yield!"

The sister was the first to sheath her weapons. "Good, now that's over and we can all stop fighting."

"I'm not so sure I can accept his surrender, Sister," Caden said darkly as she walked over. Alistair threw a look her way, but she ignored him. "That was an unprovoked attack and if he lives he will run right back to Loghain to tell him about us. We’ll be overrun by his men within the day if there truly is a bounty on our heads."

"No, I won’t!" the knight said quickly at the same time as the sister spoke again.

"Please, he has surrendered." She said beseechingly, her light blue eyes boring into Cadens with a compelling intensity. "Shed no more blood this day."

Caden opened her mouth, but something in the Sisters’ face halted her words. Perhaps she could learn a lesson from her about when to stay her blade.

"Very well," she said drawing herself up to address the knight. "You have this Sister to thank for your life. I expect you to remember this the next time to decide to, what was it? 'Cut down anyone who stands in your way'."

"Yes, yes of course," he sputtered, unable to look at the Sister. "Please, tell your hound to release me."

"Well, the thing is," Caden said, casually scratching at her chin. "I've only just met this dog, really. I’ve known her for about a day or so and I don't know her name or anything. You see… she might not want to let go and I might not be able to persuade her."

"Please try," he pleaded. Caden couldn't help the thrill that ran through her at the sound of a shem begging her. She did stop the smile that played on her lips and her mind flashed to making him beg for mercy again. A bloodthirsty side to her reared it’s head and it was with some difficulty that she shoved it aside.

"Hound, if it pleases you release this shem." She said calmly. The mabari growled and ground her teeth along the man's arm, seeming to get some final gratification out of the knights howl of pain, then let go and went to stand before Caden. "Good girl." She said, stroking her head.

The knight stood up shakily cradling his arm, his supporters rallying behind him.

Alistair sheathed his blade finally and then thrust his pointed finger in the face of the leader. His neck was flushed and Caden could see his pulse throbbing. If she thought she’d seen him angry before, she now knew he hadn’t even been close. It was an oddly comforting realisation. This was who desired his true rage. “Leave this place and go straight back to your false leader.” He ordered, his voice steady, but humming with rage. “Tell him the Wardens still remain and we’re not afraid of him.”

Caden stepped up beside Alistair, finding a moment of solidarity with her fellow Warden. She felt a pulse of his energy as it met hers and although she was certain no-one else could see it, they could feel it and that was all that mattered. “Tell him we’ll be harder to kill than he thinks. Doesn’t he know what we’ve survived? He’ll have to try much harder than this.”

“Tell him we know what really happened at Ostagar and that I swear by the oath I took as a Warden that Loghain Mac Tir will answer for his crimes and for the deaths of the king and all who fought beside him.” Alistairs eyes shone in the light, blazing with authority and the memory of his fallen comrades. Caden looked up at him, feeling the intensity of his presence as a Grey Warden heighten. If the feeling of being near a Warden was a visible thing, she reckoned he would have had a halo of golden light around him in that moment. She felt warmed by it as if they had never shared a cross word between them. She turned back to the knights, wiping her face with the back of her hand, reopening the shallow wound and smearing hot red blood over her forehead. She smiled sweetly.

“Tell him to watch his back."

The knight nodded then swept out of the pub followed closely by his supporters.

A stillness settled over the tavern and in it Caden didn’t know what to do next. It was always so clear when battle was the focus, but now they were stood alone in the middle of a cleared-out room with the fearful eyes of the patrons upon them. She stole a glance at Alistair, who was drawing a shaky breath and didn’t look quite present again yet. Caden, not knowing what else to do, sought out the gaze of the tavern owner as he rose from behind the bar again. “Sorry about that.” She offered. The man just stared back. She shrugged and turned to Alistair. “Hey, Alistair,” she murmured. He blinked, still unfocused. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Alistair said softly. “Bad enough the Wardens were killed, but now Loghains pinning the slaughter on them? On us? It’s not right.”

“I know.” Caden sympathised. “We’ll make it right.” Alistairs gaze snapped to hers, surprise evident in his eyes. “We will.”

The Sister appeared at their side; her face strangely cheery. Big blue eyes watched them and she smiled broadly. “So glad that is over with.” She said. “Fighting can be so tiresome. You two are Grey Wardens then? Truly?”

Caden looked at the Sister, then to Alistair and then back again. Alistair seemed just as bewildered by her presence as Caden felt. “Er, yes we are.” She offered. “I guess thanks are in order…?”

“Leliana.” The Sister introduced herself. “And you?”

“Warden Tabris.” Caden replied, surprising herself by using the title. The interwoven strands of Grey Warden presence were still strong, wrapped around her like a blanket warmed by the sun. “And this is Warden… um…”

“Cliffe.” Alistair filled in the blank with a rueful expression, eyes downcast. Caden realised she’d never asked for his family name. Leliana nodded, her eyes crinkling in sympathy, which only confused Caden. She’d missed something and she frowned at Alistair who sighed. “Of course, you don’t know.” He muttered, though there was nothing malicious in his tone. “That’s the name given to bastards from Redcliffe.”

Cadens eyebrows shot up. “You’re a… oh.” She wrinkled her nose in thought. She supposed it made sense, but she had never really considered the idea of humans being born out of wedlock. Her sum experience of bastards in the Alienage were those born to girls who had been taken, used and returned. Girls that she could have joined the ranks of, had she not killed Vaughan. A shudder ran through her and she realised she probably ought to say something kind to Alistair. They had been so angry before entering the pub, but now they were at a strange impasse and she felt compelled to let Alistair know that being a bastard was by no means something she would judge him for. “Alistair…”

She blinked as a burning drop of blood dripped over her lash and into her eye, making her wince and thrust her palm over her face, trying to wipe away the rest. Through her good eye she saw Alistair frown at her wound. “We should sort that out.” He said raising his arm. Halfway up, he hissed and pulled back, a bloom of blood appearing over his bicep.

“You’re hurt.” Caden said, stupidly, her hand still covering her left eye.

“Yeah,” Alistair said, pressing his arm over his own wound. “Not used to fighting without my shield. Foolish of me not to practise without, but…”

“Come on, the pair of you,” Leliana ordered briskly. “Follow me to the Chantry and I shall get you both cleaned up.”

Caden met Alistairs gaze with her one eye; the left was still stinging, tearing up to purge itself of the thing that was hurting it. He looked torn but then shrugged with his good shoulder. “Alright.”

 

*

 

“…and so the Teryn has returned to Denerim and is ruling alongside the queen.” Leliana finished as they entered her small room and she busied herself collecting water and other supplies. There was a small cot in the room, some drawers and a single chair. Alistair headed for that, leaving Caden to perch awkwardly on the bed. Her mabari hopped up beside her and Leliana threw the hound an indulgent look. “I cannot imagine all of the nobles are happy with this arrangement. Many of them have questions regarding the death of the king and I do not believe they have been answered satisfactorily.”

“That’s where we come in,” Alistair complained bitterly. “Dead men and women can’t argue their case so why not throw them to the wolves?” His arm was still pressed to the wound on his arm, but his free hand balled into a fist that he pressed down harshly against his knee. “I can't believe he would do that—the Grey Wardens have only been allowed back into Ferelden for the past thirty years. We've re-built our reputation, but who knows who will believe us over him: the hero of the River Dane." Alistair looked mad enough to spit.

“Why is the queen allowing this?” Caden asked, taking her hand away from her eye, which was still streaming with tears, but the cut on her head had ceased bleeding. “Surely Cailan was her husband so she’ll be grieving?”

Leliana stepped over to Alistair, who waved his hand. “No, I’m fine. Deal with Caden first.”

“Shut up Alistair,” Caden retorted. “I’m fine, as you can see Sister—”

“Leliana,”

“… Leliana.” Caden said. “I just need to wash my face now.” She said, blinking a few times to clear the last tears. Leliana seemed to agree and waited patiently for Alistair to take his hand off his arm. She assisted him removing his bracer, and the plates on his arm until they could roll up his ripped shirtsleeve. The cut was to the inside of his arm, that uncovered, vulnerable flesh and it was deeper than Caden has expected given how stoic Alistair was being.

“The queen is Loghains daughter.” Alistair said over Lelianas shoulder to Caden. “Cailan was her husband, but I’m sure her loyalty is to her father.”

“Oh,” Caden replied. “I suppose that makes sense.”

Alistair winced as Leliana pressed a wet cloth to his cut, but held still. “This will require stitching.” Leliana remarked as she got a better look at the cut. “Warden Tabris, would you mind assisting?”

Caden swallowed. “Um… alright.” She got up slipping off her sword belt. “What do you need?”

“In the drawer,” Leliana nodded and, following her directions, Caden found a candle and tinder, creating more light for Leliana to work by. “Now, keep him distracted. This will hurt.”

Caden’s eyes widened at the sight of a hooked needle that Leliana was lifting and holding to the flames with a set of small tongs. “Oh… er…”

“Talk to him.” Leliana prompted, her focus on the implements before her.

“It’s alright,” Alistair said, looking away from the sight. “I know how much you dislike small talk.”

The needle was glowing red hot with flecks of soot on the surface. Leliana removed the needle and reached behind the drawers to retrieve a brown bottle that she held out to Caden to uncork. The smell of strong whiskey wafted to Cadens nostrils and Leliana poured a small amount over the needle. Alistair was still looking away as hard as he could, his bad arm resting up on the drawers beside him, fist still clenched in preparation of the pain. His chest rose and fell with great speed, his jaw was firmly set. Caden set her mouth into a determined line.

“My best friend in the whole world,” Caden began, in a clear commanding voice. “Is my cousin Shianni. She’s a year younger than me, almost, and she’s always been my closest friend. We might as well be sisters for the way we lived in each-others pockets.” She couldn’t help the smile that curled over her mouth. Leliana nodded to Caden so that Alistair couldn’t see and rested her hand on his arm, making the tense muscle jump in response. Caden stepped closer to Alistair and met his eyes. “For my birthday last year Shianni surprised me by growing flowers in one of the allotments. Now, space is really limited in the Alienage—” Alistair hissed again as the needle pierced his flesh, but Caden spoke a little louder, maintaining eye contact. “—and the allotments are only meant for food, nothing as frivolous as flowers, but Shianni snuck some seeds into a corner. And she tended to the them and cultivated them. I don’t know exactly how long she was growing them—” Alistair winced again, keeping his arm still. A sheen of sweat broke out over his forehead. “—but by the time my birthday came around she had grown a beautiful bouquet of blue and white flowers for me. I tried to dry them, but I got it a bit messed up and they pretty much turned to dust. Silly of me, really…” She trailed off, grasping for more to say, but distracted by the memory. Of the flowers in their glory, tied with a hair ribbon and of the failed attempt to preserve them and how they had both laughed at her mistakes. Leliana was focused on her work. She had to keep going.

“You… should have… pressed them.” Alistair managed through gritted teeth.

“What?”

“Pressed them… in a book.” Alistair explained.

“He’s right,” Leliana said, although her focus was still on the task at hand. “Lay the flower inside the pages of a book and then lay a heavy weight on them for around a month.”

“I didn’t know that.” Caden said. “I guess you learn something new every day.” Her mind wandered to the flowers in her pack.

“Didn’t your mother teach you?” Leliana asked absentmindedly. Alistair met Cadens gaze again.

“No,” he answered for Caden, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin. “Caden’s mother… taught her… fighting not… flowers.”

“How did you know that?”

“Duncan.” Alistair said simply. “When you were… sparring.”

Caden coloured at the memory of kicking Alistair before he’d gone to stand with their late Commander. “Of course. Yes, that’s right,” she launched back into talking, back on track for her task of distracting Alistair from the pain. “My mother was not the type of woman to sit idly by when an injustice was occurring and well, we lived in an Alienage. There was no shortage of injustices. Our hahren would get so frustrated with her for causing this problem or that, but she saw it as standing up for the little people who were being pushed around. I saw it that way, too.” Her eyes shone with pride and loss. “My father is a good man, but he toes the line. My mother and he only ever argued over me and how best to raise me. He wanted me to keep my head down, to keep me safe, but mama knew differently. For us, safety was an illusion and it was important to always have a back-up. She tried to teach Shianni to fight, but it never took. My friend Soris had a few lessons with us, but he didn’t keep it up either.”

“How often did you train?” Leliana asked, her hands moving faster now.

“Every day.” Caden said. “Any chance we got. Until she died when I was twelve and after that I trained by myself. I snuck up on rats, not to hurt them, just to practise sneaking.”

“You can… hunt the food…from now on then.” Alistair suggested.

“Alright, it’ll be rat for dinner every night then,” Caden joked and was oddly pleased when Alistair laughed through the pain. If she focused too hard on what was happening, that she was spilling her past to a stranger and a problematic human man, she would certainly clam up tight again. But as it was, she was doing him a service by chattering inanely. And it was actually pleasant. Speaking to Alistair about her friends and family was nice. Warm. Companionable. “I’m sure Morrigan can cook rat so well you’d never know what meat it was. That is, if she’s not got people on the menu, right?” Alistair chuckled again and the same thrill shot through her. He wasn’t wincing any more, though it no doubt still hurt. Perhaps it wasn’t her and he had just gone numb. “I wonder where she is.”

“Scaring… children?” Alistair suggested.

“All done.” Leliana straightened and gather her things. Caden stole a glance at the neatly stitched lines of skin pulled back together on his arm. “You did excellently, Warden Cliffe. Very still.”

“Please, call me Alistair.” Alistair said, carefully rolling his sleeve over the cut.

Leliana smiled and wetted some gauze, turning to Caden. “Your turn.”

Caden flinched as the hand rose up unexpectedly, but pulled herself back together quickly. “I don’t need…?”

“No stitches.” Leliana confirmed, apparently not perturbed by Cadens reaction. Nor did she call any attention to it. “Just a wash and a clean.”

“Here, sit here,” Alistair stood offering the chair. Caden took it feeling shy once again. Alistair went over to the bed and sat down beside the dog, giving her some fuss with his good arm. “Does she have a name yet?”

Caden shook her head before Lelianas warm gentle hands held her still and dabbed the cloth at her forehead. Leliana clicked her teeth. “A dog must have a name.”

“What were those flowers your cousin grew for you?” Alistair asked as the mabari rolled onto her back and he rubbed her belly. “Who’s a good girl?” He murmured. “You are, yes you.”

Caden thought back to her birthday and Shianni standing with the flowers and a beaming smile. “The blue ones were cornflowers.” She replied.

Alistair shook his head. “That won’t do. We can’t call you Corny, can we?”

“The white ones were something like anan…annie…mon?”

“Anemone?” Leliana offered. Caden nodded.

“That’s no good if we can’t even pronounce it.” Alistair put forth.

“In Orlais where I grew up,” Leliana began, rinsing the cloth. “Anemones are called nemorosa.”

“Nemorosa.” Caden tried out the word on her tongue. “It’s a bit of a mouthful.”

Alsitair shrugged, as the mabari clambered onto his lap, snuffling at his neck. “Could shorten it to Rosa?” He suggested.

Caden closed her eyes as water dribbled down her forehead and the steady, comforting hands of Leliana tended to her so kindly. “I like that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from a song by First Aid Kit. Nothing really does go as planned for them at all! 
> 
> I've borrowed a Game of Thrones element that probably leaps out to fans of the books/show when you see that I've given Alistair a bastards surname, because it seemed a little unsubtle to say the least if he was using the Theirin name! In my head canon he believes he is illegitimate and therefore unable to claim the throne, BUT he might be surprised to learn what plans have been made for him behind the scenes before the ill fated Battle of Ostagar.   
> Oh no, I've said too much!


	19. I Have This Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana explains her reasons for wanting to join the party.

_But sometimes my faith feels thin, Like the night will never end_

 

“Do you believe in the Maker?”

Alistair looked over from the bed to see Caden open her eyes slowly. She looked like she had been half asleep as Leliana tended to her shallow wounds and cleaned her face. It was quite remarkable how still Caden had sat, far stiller than he had ever seen her with someone placing their hands upon any part of her body. Furthermore, her face was entirely dirt free. Her hair was tied back, matted and coated in filth and from her neck down she wore her newly bloodied armour, but her face was almost sparkling, the candlelight casting her skin in a warm glow. She had a fresh cut on her forehead, but although it had bled profusely it was no longer a cause for concern. Her left eye was still a little red from the stinging trickle of blood, but as her large blue eyes looked up at Leliana, Alistair could almost have confused Caden for another person. Not a Grey Warden, not a soldier. Just a regular person who suddenly seemed very young. It occurred to Alistair as he watched her now that he did not know how old she was and, in this moment, in this light, she seemed to barely be old enough to have left home at all, never mind being faced with the task of recruiting an army to stand against the Blight.

He realised he had yet to speak and Caden seemed in no hurry. The pause appeared to agitate Leliana, whose hands shook as she moved over to the dresser, her implements rattling slightly. “I know it might seem a strange question.” Leliana said softly, not looking at either of them. “We are taught that the Maker has left us and He will not return until we are all believers.”

Cadens gaze slid to Alistairs and he gave a helpless shrug. Caden chewed on her lip for a moment before replying. “I grew up following the teachings of Andraste.” She said. “I do not believe the Maker watches over us anymore, but as far as I’m concerned She does. She freed the elves after all.”

Leliana turned, with a small smile for Caden. “I was training to be a Templar.” Alistair finally said. “I believe in the Maker well enough, though I wouldn’t call myself devout. I was rather thrilled when Duncan arrived with his fancy papers to bust me out of there.” He chuckled and stroked Rosas back.

“Why do you ask, Leliana?” Caden wanted to know. “If your help was conditional on us being believers, you really should have asked us first.”

“Oh, no,” Leliana protested hurriedly. “Not at all. I helped, because I knew I could.” Something like that could have sounded insincere, but somehow Alistair couldn’t help but put stock in her words. Leliana seemed genuine.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Caden asked, her previous question forgotten. Alistair watched the shine in her eyes as she asked this, the way she half rose out of the chair, so eager to hear the reply. Typical that fighting would pique her interest. “I’ve never seen it’s like.”

Leliana looked down, but Alistair caught the pride in her smile. “I wasn’t always a Chantry Sister.” Was all she said. “I am glad I have impressed you, though, as I have a request to ask of you. Of you both.” She added, looking to Alistair.

“After the assistance you provided today, how could we refuse?” Alistair replied, wary of what exactly she wanted of them. But she had fought beside them and she had patched them both up afterwards. Perhaps they did owe her.

Leliana straightened her spine, though her hands were joined before her, fingers fidgeting as she spoke. “I would like to join you on your crusade.”

“Oh.” Caden said with a frown. She met Alistairs gaze, but once again he returned the look blankly. “Well, I didn’t expect that.”

“We aren’t necessarily looking for companions,” Alistair explained, mindful to tread with care. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, especially after she had helped them. “We already have one who was kind of foistered upon us, so we’re all full up really and it’ll be dangerous, our quest. Lots of travel. Long walks. I’m already getting blisters. And don’t you have work to do here?”

“Not once the village is evacuated.” Caden put forth before Leliana could reply for herself. Her expression was sombre, but her mouth set in a determined line. “Which is why we’re here.”

A pinch of annoyance twisted Alistairs gut. “We’re here to advise people to move on, but mostly we’re here for some rest and replenishment.” He retorted. “If we can scrape enough money together to do so that is.”

The look on Cadens face was murderous, but Alistair found himself staring back with daggers of his own. The loss of the coin still smarted and evidently, she was no closer to admitting fault than she had been an hour or so ago. “I would be interested in travelling with someone who clearly knows what she’s doing with a blade and with a healers kit.”

The sigh Alistair let out was long and drawn out. Just when he felt they were finding a comfortable footing with each other, she had to go and be belligerent. It wouldn’t have surprised him to learn that Caden didn’t even want Leliana to join them; just that she couldn’t pass up an opportunity to fight with him. His knuckles cracked as he worried his hands together, trying to think of a way to argue against taking on another stray without offending the very woman who was still standing between them in the room. “Why do you want to go with us?” He asked after a while. That was the only way he could think to argue against having another mouth to feed, another set of footsteps to quieten, another person potentially getting in harms way.

“The Maker told me to.” Came the reply.

There seemed to be a joint moment of realisation from both Caden and Alistair as they took in Lelianas earnest face. At least now they were on the same page; Alistair hid a bewildered laugh in a cough as Caden tried to settle her features into something resembling politeness.

“Did he really?”

To her credit Leliana seemed to understand how bizarre it sounded and she sighed lightly. “I realise it sounds crazy, but I believe I had a vision from Him. A great darkness was coming and that He wanted me to help fight it. I’d really like to accompany you and help in any way I can. You’ve seen my skills in battle, so judge me on that. I am also adept at mixing poultices and tinctures, as well as fixing traps and lures. I am an excellent cook, if I do say so myself, and I have yet to discover a lock that I can’t pick.” She cast a sidelong glance at Caden. “These are all skills I would be willing to teach.”

“Oh?” Caden asked, her shining eyes belying her casual tone. “I was rather taken by your fighting style, I must say. Would that be something you would be willing to share as well? I’m a fast learner.”

Alistair felt his heart sink as she uttered the same words she had used to press him for lessons. The battle was won; from what he knew of Caden there would be no chance of her passing up an opportunity to learn more creative ways to get the upper hand in a fight. He recalled their bout of sparring back at Ostagar. The memory of the kick to his privates was still a sore point. What was interesting was the way that Leliana had seemingly pinpointed Cadens weakness after spending so little time with them.

He expected Caden to answer right away but, to his surprise, Caden looked to him. Leliana was waiting for a response, but Caden wasn’t replying. Was this because of the two of them he had seniority? Or had he shaken her confidence by haranguing her about the money? Alistair opened his mouth, looking to Leliana, who was waiting patiently, her face unreadable. The polite refusal that he was forming in his mind, was not what eventually came out, and he couldn’t say why that was. “Alright, fine,” was what he said. “If the Maker has willed it, who are we to refuse help.” He smiled to show that he was happy with this arrangement, even if it wasn’t quite true, but then he caught Cadens expression. She was beaming so brightly that she had reverted back to that young girl once again. His own smile broadened at the sight, turning genuine in response to her face.

Then Caden’s gaze locked onto his and the smile vanished, replaced by downcast eyes and a slight tremor in her voice as she stood and said: “I’ll go and see if I can find Morrigan anywhere. Let her know about recent decisions.”

Alistair got to his feet, as Rosa hopped off the bed to go to her mistress. “Are you sure that’s wise?” He asked. “I hadn’t expected to meet danger from Loghains army. Perhaps we should both go.”

“No, it’s fine.” Caden said. “I’ll have Rosa with me.”

Alistair hesitated. He wasn’t keen on the thought of Caden being outnumbered by knights, if there were any more in the area, even if she had her mabari with her. Caden looked up hurriedly.

“Honestly, it’s fine.” Caden patted her thigh. “Come on Rosa.”

“Alright then,” Alistair agreed, though it seemed hollow. Why would she await his decision one minute and then be struck with a sudden desire to do her own thing the next? “I guess I’ll find us somewhere to sleep tonight.”

“I can help with that.” Leliana smiled. “Come, let us visit the Revered Mother and discuss where you can find sanctuary for the night. Caden, why don’t you come along as well?”

“No, it’s alright.” Caden said, her hand on the door. “I know where to find you, but Morrigan doesn’t.”

Caden vanished out of the door with Rosa, leaving Alistair alone with Leliana. He plastered a smile on his face. “Well, then.” He said. “I guess we’ll go see the Revered Mother.”

Leliana nodded and lead the way out of the door and towards the back of the Chantry. “Who is Morrigan?”

“Where do I begin…?”  
  


*

 

Caden walked under a heavy cloud of a bad mood. She hadn’t realised it would be dark when she left the Chantry and within a short distance from the doors she felt the weight of her tiredness press down upon her. She wanted nothing more than to curl up on a bed, a real bed if possible, and sleep for years. It would be her first night without any of the herbs in her system, so the appeal of sleep was marred with the fear of what dreams might come to her, but even so the urge to sleep was strong. But she couldn’t turn around and go back to the Chantry. Not yet. Not after making her exit so recently. No, she needed a good hour to pass before she could think about returning.

It was all so stupid, she thought with a pang. Her discomfort ought by now to be secondary to the common sense of sticking with her small, but growing group. Alistair had learned to stop reaching for her without her knowledge or consent, so he was trying, but the way he talked to her sometimes still left a lot to be desired. Like she was some stupid kid who couldn’t think a single thought for herself. And yet in truth, Caden knew that the worst thing was that he was only parroting the sensible voice at the back of her own mind. The voice that was appalled when she wounded an already unconscious man, thief and bandit notwithstanding. The voice that advised her to keep back some coin for them before handing the rest to the needy. The voice that protested that she wasn’t one woman alone, but one of a pair of Grey Wardens who needed to work together on this mission. So why then was she so viscerally opposed to a few moments ago when, pleased that he had made a decision in her favour, they had shared a joyful glance?

Caden walked over the bridge and through the village, patches of light on the path from the houses either side that were lit up from within as families closed their doors to the night.

Alistair had sat so still while Leliana wove the needle in and out of his skin, pulling the gash together to heal. He’d been focused on Caden, on the story she told him. It had been nice, but a thought niggled at her: Duncan had talked to him about her mother back at Ostagar. That might not have been such a problem, but she couldn’t help but wonder what else might have been said. She began to list the things Alistair knew about her. He knew her mother died when she was young and that she had taught Caden to fight before that. He knew that Caden had murdered Vaughan Kendalls and that she had been kidnapped from the Alienage. He knew that Nelaros was dead, though as far as she could tell he did not suspect that she had lied to him about her marital status. Pausing down a side alley she lifted her left hand, peering down at the thin golden band. Was it terrible that she wore this? That she perpetuated the lie via assumption, that she was lawfully wed and widowed? She wished she knew what Nelaros would have thought about that, but her brief relationship with him was nowhere near substantiated enough that she could have guessed any of his opinions.

She couldn’t say the same of Alistair. She’d known Nelaros for longer, but she had a better grasp of Alistairs character, or so it felt. His character, but not his past.

It washer own fault. He had offered her the chance to get to know him, had tried to get to know her on her own terms. She’d been the gate keeper to any kind of friendship, safe in the knowledge that she didn’t have to know him, that he would just be another Warden and that if she’d wanted a friend after all she could have turned to Lyra or maybe one of the others. Wardens who were now dead and gone and of course, the one she’d pushed away so stubbornly was the one remaining.

Caden’s throat tightened sharply. Lyra had been a thorn in her side, a person to share space with and nothing more and yet, Lyra had also cared for her in spite of Cadens bad attitude. Caden hadn’t spared a single thought for Lyra or the other Wardens since their deaths. Had not mourned them because she had not really known them. She thought of the bow that had met her when she passed through the Joining ritual and sat with them for dinner. Not a single cross word about her, only acceptance.

The rough stone wall scraped against her back as she slid down it, burying her face in the scruff of Rosa, who sat very still and allowed Cadens arms to wind around her. “I’m the problem,” Caden murmured into the fur. “I’m the horrible one.”

“Horrible is a relative term,” Caden looked up sharply, into the face of Morrigan staring down at her. She hadn’t heard her approach. “Sometimes the wisest course of action is to appear unpleasant. Wear it like armour and it can keep undesirables at bay.”

Caden scrambled to her feet, glad she hadn’t made more of a fool of herself with tired tears or the like. “I came to find you.” She said.

“Well, here I am.” Morrigan responded, crossing her arms over her front. “What do you wish of me?”

“Wish of…?” Caden frowned. “Oh, no, I don’t need you for anything. I wanted to make sure you were alright. Where were you?”

Morrigan arched her brow slowly. “I am quite well, of course. I have been present, but out of the way. I am still a free mage after all.” She pursed her lips. “An apostate, as your Templar friend would say.”

“Alistair isn’t a Templar.” Caden corrected gently.

Morrigan didn’t see fit to argue, though her expression clearly displayed how she felt about Alistairs one-time career path. Caden almost felt the need to push the issue; protest that Alistair wasn’t a blind Chantry follower, able to make his own decisions about mages, but she didn’t expect that line would take her very far. Morrigan and Alistair did not exactly get along even when they agreed on something, so she doubted Morrigan would care.

“I presume lodgings have been acquired for the night?” Morrigan suggested. “Hence you’re desire to find me and bring me in out of the dark like a cat without a bell?”

“Well…” Caden shifted from one foot to the other. “Kind of. We ran into some trouble with knights loyal to the man who abandoned the fight at Ostagar.” Caden spent the next few moments relaying all that had happened in the tavern with Loghains men, up to Leliana performing first aid on her and Alistair and finishing with the news that the Chantry sister cum fighter cum medic would be travelling with them. Morrigan watched with an impassive expression until Caden came to the end. “So, I’m not really sure where we’ll be sleeping but there’s a chance we could be bunking at the Chantry, I guess.”

“I,” Morrigan said imperiously, “will not be sleeping in a Chantry building.”

Caden held back a sigh. “I don’t know if that’s a definite.” She said cautiously. “The village is pretty packed with refugees, so I gather space is tight. If we do have a place in the Chantry, would you put up with it just this once?”

“No.” Morrigan replied and Caden gritted her teeth. Before she could ask any further questions, Morrigan saw fit to elaborate after all. “The Chantry believe anyone in possession of magical ability must be corralled like cattle into one of their Circles, overseen by those known as Templars. There is no such thing as freedom for a mage. I, and my mother, live free lives because we have never submitted to the shackles of beliefs which we do not follow ourselves. Would you have me take refuge in a place that see my kind as lesser? As untrustworthy due to innate abilities I did not ask for?” Her amber eyes bored into Caden. “Would you expect me to feel at peace within the walls of an institution that would sooner chain me than offer me sanctuary?” Caden broke eye contact, her gaze dropping to the ground. “No, I did not think you would expect that of me.” Morrigan said. “I suspect this is yet another gap in your education caused by your sheltered childhood. I am happy to fill in that gap so that you may understand.”

“I understand.” Caden replied gruffly. She lifted her face again. “I’m sorry Morrigan, you’re right that I wasn’t aware of all of that. Of course, I don’t want you to be somewhere that would cause you such discomfort.”

“I cannot imagine your Templar Warden would see things that way.”

Now the sigh escaped. “I know you and Alistair aren’t seeing eye to eye, but I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to be put in that position—”

“This is the same man who insisted on dosing you with an herbal remedy against your wishes in the name of the greater good?” Morrigan let that sit for a moment, watching Cadens face fall. “I do not disagree with that decision; however, you must be well aware of the person you are travelling with. Do not give the benefit of the doubt to those who have proven to put their own interests above your comfort.”

Caden just nodded, unable to muster up the energy for any kind of fight. Besides, Morrigan was probably right. “What will you do?”

“I will be perfectly settled elsewhere.” Morrigan said. “Do not spend time fretting over my own sleeping arrangements.”

“Alright.”

 

*

 

Alistair stepped back and appraised his work. Erecting his tent in the dark was not his idea of a fun challenge, but with a combination of the half moon and two lanterns hanging from a tree in the Chantry gardens he had succeeded in getting it up and what’s more, it was staying up. Under normal circumstances he and Caden would have shared the tent, one after the other, in keeping with a watch pattern, but would they need to keep watch enshrined in the Chantry gardens? The walls were high and the only access was through the Chantry itself. He doubted Loghains men still lingered after they had been so readily dispatched in the pub, and after they had retrieved the stolen food for the town, he doubted they would be any danger from the townsfolk.

“Nice work.”

Alistair turned to see Leliana coming into the garden on quiet feet. In her hands she held two steaming cups of something that smelled sweet and fragrant and she offered one to him. “Tea with honey.” She explained as he took it and gave it a tentative sniff. It wasn’t a brew he recognised, but it smelled very fancy. “From my private rations: I buy it from travelling merchants who come in from Orlais.” Leliana smiled over her cup and took a sip. “A small home comfort.”

The cup was hot against his hands and felt small in his grip, but he cradled the cup and absorbed the warmth into his chilled fingers. “Thank you, Leliana.” He surveyed the gardens by the lantern light. It was sparse, with a few well used herb bushes and an area he suspected were for vegetables. They looked to have been plucked clean. “Has the village suffered that badly already?” Leliana followed his gaze to the depleted stocks and sighed.

“The refugees quickly overwhelmed the town.” She said sadly. “We could have managed, but when the food stores went missing it sowed mistrust between the locals and the displaced. Now we know they were stolen by bandits, but it was fraught for a few days.”

“I’m surprised the Bann didn’t step in.” Alistair said.

“Well, he had already gone.” Leliana made a sound of disgust with her teeth, like sucking air. Her pretty face scrunched into a moue of displeasure. “The moment it got difficult, and he left everyone to their own defences. Of course, we did what we could here, gave out our own food and tried to keep the peace, but it has not been easy.”

Alistair nodded sadly as a thought niggled at him. “I don’t want to take food from you or the Chantry. We have our own provisions and I want to give something back as you’ve offered us shelter, so please allow me to share what we have with you.”

Leliana smiled brightly. “Why thank you, Alistair. The Revered Mother understands the value of a gift given in kind, so I’m sure she will be very grateful to take a portion of what you are offering.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice a jot, as if there were any danger of them being overheard. “We have an understanding about the tea, though, so please keep it to yourself before everyone wants a try.” She moved back with a wink. Alistair chuckled, somewhat nervously.

He couldn’t quite figure the Sister out. For all of her apparent sweetness, she was clearly deadly with a blade, assured with a needle and quite possible entirely insane if she believed the Maker was sponsoring her expedition to travel Ferelden with two wanted Wardens. Alistair didn’t know what else to do so he blew gently on the tea and took a sip. It was a bit like drinking flowers dipped in honey and he coughed in surprise, forcing his face into a smile. “That definitely tastes… Orlesian.”

Leliana beamed at this assessment.

Alistair took another sip and almost winced at the floral flavour. “So, tell me again how the Maker told you to join us.”

Leliana took a deep breath. “I will do you one better. Let me show you.” Leliana reached down one of the lanterns and gestured for him to follow her. She began to explain. “Do you ever have dreams that feel more like a message than a mere collection of images?”

“More than you know,” Alistair replied grimly.

“I had one such dream,” Leliana went on, unperturbed. “A dream of a great, all-consuimg darkness. I could see Ferelden and watched it swallowed up by this terrible void, while an ungodly sound rang out. I realised it was not just Ferelden then, it was Orlais, Antiva, Tervinter even. It was all of Thedas and it was lost beneath the black.” She visibly shuddered at the memory. “I woke up in a cold sweat. To clear my mind I brought a cup of tea to the gardens, just as we have now. And I found this.”  

Mildly alarmed, Alistair let himself be lead across the garden to a dark corner where the walls met. Growing up those walls was a climbing bush that had seen better days. The bush was more thorns than anything else and didn’t look like anything could have grown on it at all. And yet…

“You see?” Leliana handed Alistair the lantern and reached for the single bloom, cutting through the dead plant with such vibrancy even in the dim light. Her fingers brushed the velvety petals of the red rose. “This dead and decaying plant produced this single rose the very morning after my dream.” Leliana turned her head, fixed her gaze onto Alistairs. “What else could this be but a sign?”

“A sign of…?”

“No matter how dark the night gets, no matter how great the threat to Thedas,” Leliana explained, her voice becoming more animated with every word, “there is always hope. I believe that you and Caden are that hope. And I want to help in any way that I can.”

She gave the rose a final gentle touch before pulling back and sighing. “It may not make sense to you, but to me it is as clear as day.”

“No, I…” Alistair faltered, his words unexpectedly thick. “I understand. I just hope we can live up to your belief in us.”

Leliana just smiled. Alistair drained his cup to dislodge the lump in his throat and held back a gag at the cloying sweetness. She took his cup and hers and nodded, saying goodnight and turning, heading back to the Chantry with the empty cups, leaving him alone in the corner of the garden. He could feel the weight of the presence of the rose before he turned around to view it again. It was a truly perfect bloom, without blemish or fault to his untrained eye. He moved the lantern closer and crouched, pressing his finger and thumb to a petal. It was softer than Rosas muzzle and smelled a lot better. He splayed his fingers around the blossom, struck with the sudden sense that he was holding the tangible hope of every man, woman and child in Ferelden. He swallowed.

“Alistair?” At Cadens call he jolted in surprise, the thorns piercing the meat of his thumb and he instinctively yanked his hand back. With dismay, the thorns held tight and the brittle bush yielded its single prize to him. Alistair looked down to see the perfect flower in his hand as the bush shivered and dropped dried leaves and ash to the ground.

“Oh, damn.” He uttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for the chapter title is by Tenth Avenue North. The song is very on the nose for a chapter in which our holy Sister, Leliana discusses her beliefs in a deity, but no matter. It works!


	20. Go!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rose is plucked, a talent is displayed and Caden finds her voice.

_Swap your dull gray thoughts, For fierce demands you can stand up to_

 

“What are you doing?” Caden frowned. Alistair was leaping to his feet, a flower clutched in his hands. “What’s that?”

“It’s a rose.” Alistair said, using his other hand to unpick the thorns from his skin without jostling the bloom too much. “Don’t tell Leliana.”

“It’s for Leliana?” Now she was more confused. He was gathering a rose for the Sister? Was that even allowed?

“No!” Alistair flushed, gingerly holding the rose stem between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s her sign from the Maker.”

“That rose?”

“Yes, basically.” Alistair replied, flustered. He looked at her, his eyes pleading. “She had a dream and the dead bush bloomed and we’re the rose. To her, we’re the hope for the whole world and that’s all symbolised in this flower. And I just killed it.”

Caden took in his panicked ramblings, sliding her gaze from his face to the rose and back again. He looked bereft. “I don’t believe in signs.” She said after a moment. “No-one could have forseen what happened at Ostagar. No-one could have known you and I would be the only two Wardens left to fight the darkspawn.” Caden shrugged. “I’m supposed to be married right now, back in Denerim. Who would have known I’d be here instead, standing in a garden watching you lose your mind over picking a flower?” She saw Alistairs brows perform a confused jig as he lurched from further panic to sensing she was teasing as she let a slow smile break. “It almost makes it all worthwhile.”

“Don’t jest,” Alistair said, though the corners of his mouth were raising. “I’m really worried I’ve dashed Lelianas hopes to pieces.”

Caden rolled her eyes, though she was smiling as she moved closer and held out her hand. “Give it to me. I’ll say I did it. I didn’t know better and you and Morrigan can both tell her how much I love picking flowers.” She watched Alistair freeze, the blooms petals gently waving in the night air. Then he slowly placed it into her open palm. “If she takes it really badly you can just forgive me for giving all that money away. That’ll make us even.” She said, her jaw tensing even as she reached for another joke. Alistair dropped his hand.

“Caden…”

“I’m sorry,” Caden cut in before he could get going. Her eyes were fixed on the ground before her as her words tumbled out. “I should have thought before I acted. I’ll figure something out tomorrow with the smithy, I’ll get your shield back. I promise.”

She clutched the rose rightly in the hand, feeling the slight scratch of the thorns, though they did not break her skin. Into the small patch of lantern lit ground shuffled Alistairs boots. “Caden? _I’m_ sorry.”

Now she looked up, confused. That wasn’t how she had imagined this conversation to go.

“I was too hard on you,” Alistair sighed, running his hand over his hair as he grasped for words. “I’ve been too hard on you, more than once. I’m not handling this whole thing very well. Being the most senior Warden in all of Ferelden… I’m ill-equipped for it. I shouldn’t have let it get to me or taken it out on you. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Caden nodded, not quite sure what to say. She looked down at the rose, touching her hand to the bloom and inhaling the scent that was released by her fingering it. “I’m glad you’re here.” She said in the softest murmur. “If it had to come down to two of us and one of those had to be me, then it’s a good thing it also had to be you.” She let out an awkward laugh at herself. “I mean, I don’t know anything, so by myself I’d be no good at all. It’s good you’re here to steer us right. I really do have so much to learn.”

“Caden…” Alistair began again, his tone tender, gentler than she’d know it to be so far. She looked into his face and offered a shaky smile. She was _trying_. He looked away, taking a deep breath and reaching down for the lantern. “Come on. We should get some sleep.”

Caden felt a rush of gratitude that the awkwardness was over with and yet, as they walked back, she felt a little something else brush up against that relief. It was a strange new thing and she didn’t like the sense of it so she pushed it away. Reached for humour again instead. That seemed safest. “Let me just break it to Leliana that I’ve plucked her Fate Rose first. I wonder if she’ll cry?”

Alistair chortled nervously as they headed for the Chantry.

 

*

 

The next morning broke over Lothering, waking the Warden and dog outside in the tent, but not the Warden who had bedded down on the floor of Lelianas room. One Warden woke to the sound of birdsong and the snuffling of a Mabari as she made it clear she needed to step outside to relieve herself. The other Warden was already upright on her bedroll, dark circles under her eyes.

Caden was clean, dry and warm, that much was on her side. Leliana had insisted on sharing her room and as the alternative was sharing a tight space in a tent with Alistair, Caden had agreed. Leliana had gone into mother hen mode, bustling Caden out of her armour and into a warm bath. Heated tubs were a luxury not afforded to this holy house, but Leliana had done her best with a fire and a small copper tub beside it. It wouldn’t have mattered if it was tepid; the clean water on her skin was worth any mild temperature discomfort. Leliana had pressed some tea into her hands as she sat, knees up out of the water, which had been scented with some fancy oils. Leliana, it seemed, had a secret stash of all of her favourite Orlesian things and was more than willing to share.

The fate of the rose had not disconcerted the Sister at all. She hadn’t bought Cadens ruse that she had picked the flower and truthfully Caden hadn’t tried hard to sell that line, but Leliana had not pushed. The rose was currently in a small glass of water on the dresser for the time being.

After her bath and change into a large shirt she had been given from Flemeths house and was at least clean, if oversized, Leliana had brushed out Cadens hair, remarking on the length and colour with effusive tones. It was strange, Caden had mused to herself, that the soft touches and strokes and sweet words evoked a recent memory at camp. For a moment it felt as though Lyra were back tending to her hair and being so enamoured by it, rather than conjuring the image of her mother. Adaia had been the one to care for her hair for the duration of her pre-teen childhood, helping Caden to keep it clean and tangle-free. Adaia would brush the long, straight locks of gold by the fireplace after a bath, singing softly to her and employing deft skills to braid it. Braids like she had worn on her wedding day as placed atop her head by Shianni. Strange that her actual family were not the ones she recalled as Leliana tended to her, but instead the Wardens hands were what she remembered.

Perhaps that was why the dreams were so bad that night.

That pull towards the Wardens, that link to the taint that flowed in every Wardens blood perhaps was to blame for the nightmares that plagued her in the dead of night. Without meaning to she had taken a step closer to the Wardens, towards accepting her role facing down the Blight and maybe that brought on the same strength in her connection to the horde. This time, her mind fully unleashed from the shackles of the herbal remedy, her sleep opened up to an image of the feasting at Ostagar.

 

_She watched the horde from a strange position that she could not figure out at first. The bodies of the fallen warriors were up close, the smell of the decaying flesh in her nostrils. She heard a wrenching sound but she couldn’t turn her head. Her arm moved into view, tearing something loose. It gave with a disconcerting pop, and she realised it was a leg, coming free from the hip joint. She did not gag, had no reaction to the visceral sight. It was right before her mouth clamped down into the withering, sun bleached muscle of the human thigh that she knew she was seeing through the eyes of a darkspawn._

_Another genlock grabbed the ankle of the leg and pulled, snarling and Caden felt the body of the thing she was a passenger of respond in kind, hissing and spitting blood. A tug of war established over the limb. Caden tried to close her eyes, turn her head away, anything to avoid the view, but she was locked into position as the genlock swiped a clawed hand at her. Dropping the leg, she moved on to find more food._

_The ground was a cluttered mess of death. Many of the dead were in various states of bloated decay or had collapsed into wet mulch; there were piles of bones picked clean already dotted about. Food was growing scarce. A hunger roiled inside her. They would need to move on soon. Find more man flesh to fill their bellies._

_She raised her head and sniffed the air. North. They would go north._

_Soon._

 

It was fortunate that no scream forced its way out of her throat as she rose from the nightmare. Leliana had continued her light snoring, but Caden had not dared sleep again that night. She wished she had been allowed to keep Rosa inside the Chantry, but after the Revered Mother had met the war hound, she had decreed that she must sleep outside. Caden yearned for the warm body of her dog.

There was no window in the small Chantry room, but after some time had passed Caden had pulled on a pair of breeches and made her way quietly outside. The empty Chantry was eerily quiet, but fortunately Caden had spent many an afternoon sneaking up on rats in Denerim so she had avoided waking anyone who was still sleeping as she had padded on bare feet towards the back for the garden. Dawn had not long broken and as Caden crossed the dewy grass she sensed movement from inside the tent. A muffled grumble as the ties were opened and then the canvas flaps were disturbed by an arm. Rosa came out of the tent, spying her mistress at once and bounding over to her. “You better not be chasing squirrels—” Alistairs words floated out of the tent as his head appeared, joining the arm. “Oh! Good morning Caden.” He dipped back and then his whole body emerged from the tent. He was clad in a similar shirt and cotton breeches to her, though his fit a lot better.

He stood and stretched, a popping sound in his back wrenching the dream to the forefront of Cadens mind. “I had a dream.” She said.

Alistair lowered his hands, resting them lightly on his hips, watching her expectantly. Rosa made her way around the tent, sniffing up to a tree and then squatting to relieve herself. The morning breeze teased the strands of hair that had escaped Cadens long braid during her sleep. The silence went on until Caden tentatively broke it. “Alistair, I think the horde will be coming this way before long. They’re… running out of food.”

She watched his face turn grim. “Dear Maker…” He murmured, pressing his palm to his mouth. They both knew what she was inferring with her vague words. “Well, I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later.” He said, his voice hollow, putting his hand back on his hip; a casual stance despite his heavy words. “Did you see… what did you see?”

Caden felt her hands clench. “No-one specific.” She replied tightly. She had a sense that was what he was really asking. “I was… inside a genlock I think? It was like I could see what he saw. I don’t know how to explain it, but it felt so real.”

“Are you alright?” Alistair asked, taking in her haunted expression.

“I’m fine.” Caden lied. “Alistair, we have to get the people out of Lothering.”

“We will,” Alistair said with such assurance that she almost believed him. “Later, when the village wakes up. You look tired.” His change of tactic with a sympathetically cocked head, warm eyes appraising her drew the truth from her lips before she could stop it.

“I woke up a few hours ago, I think.” She said blinking blearily. “I didn’t want to go back to sleep.”

Alistairs nodded, as if he had suspected that much. “Are you tired? You’re welcome to the tent; you can curl up with Rosa and get some more kip.”

“Oh, I…”

“I’ll be on guard.” Alistair hurried to add. “Out here. No-one will disturb your sleep on my watch. I promise.”

The lure of restful sleep tugged at her and she ended up gazing with yearning at the tent. Rosa came over and butted her head against her hand so she stroked her automatically. Alistair was giving her an encouraging look. Her protest twisted into acceptance before she realised it. “Thank you.”

Alistair stood aside and let her crawl into the tent. She couldn’t bring herself to lie inside his bedroll, but curling up on top with Rosa beside her, she felt more peaceful than she had in a long while. The scent of her Warden-Brother lingered and mingled with the smell of the mabari to create a surprisingly pleasant and comforting aura. Caden breathed deep and with the golden sense of Alistair outside the tent, she drifted into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

 

*

 

Rosa sneezed in her face and that was how she woke after a few extra hours of sleep, and that was preferable to almost every waking since her traumatic wedding day. Caden reached her hand up and wiped the moisture from her face as the dog wagged her stumpy tail. “Thanks Rosa.”

The mabari got up and headed outside leaving Caden alone for the moment. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, her dream feeling very distant at first, but slowly it came back. She sucked in a breath as the images hit in a flurry inside her mind and her hands gripped the bedroll, her Warden sense reaching instinctively for the nearest Warden and not finding anyone in the garden. It was strange how clearly that came back to her, like how bats knew not to fly into buildings. Alistair wasn’t there. Caden scrambled outside, calling to Rosa as a means of making noises declaring her being awake, without actually calling for Alistair, like some child lost in a market.

“He is inside.” Caden whirled to the sound of Morrigans voice. She was leaning casually against the tree, ignoring the interested mabari at her feet.

“Morriagan!” Caden exclaimed, then frowned. “I thought you didn’t want to spend any time in the Chantry?”

“I can abide this garden for a time.” Morrigan replied coolly. “I have been keeping myself busy but I checked in from time to time with the lumbering Warden and now with you.”

Caden felt a moment of annoyance on behalf of Alistair at being termed lumbering, but it was overruled by her interest in the witch and her coy answers. “How exactly have you been doing that?” She wanted to know, her gaze drifting to the high walls around the garden. There was no way Morrigan had snuck through the Chantry, she suspected. “Can you fly?” Caden eventually asked with a chuckle.

“Yes, actually.”

There was no time to hide the astonishment and intrigue that burst out of Cadens face, so she took a closer step and with awe asked: “No… really? How?”

Morrigan rolled her eyes, but stood up straight from the tree and after a few moments finger work and muttering, Caden watched as a dark sheen sprouted from every surface of Morrigans skin, as she shrank down and emerged from the puff of feathers as a jet-black crow. Caden’s mouth dropped open and she watched delighted as the Morrigan-Crow let out a harsh caw and took flight to the tree. Rosa had jumped back at the strange magic, but now she stood beneath the tree and barked upwards. The crow gave another caw, somehow in a tone of voice that was just as authoritative and haughty as belonged to its human counterpart. Caden dove for her dog, and shushed her, hauling her back so that the crow could fly safely back down and shake off the magic, reforming her long limbs, pale skin and imperious look.

“Wow!” Caden breathed, letting go of Rosa, who now had no desire to harass the human form of Morrigan. In fact, Rosa had had quite enough of all of this, and turned tail to head off to another part of the garden. “That’s incredible, Morrigan. Is that normal magic? Can any mage do that?”

“They could,” Morrigan said, her offhand tone at odds with the touch of pink in her cheeks and the slight smile on her lips, “had they a mind to learn. Sadly our magic, mine and my mothers, wilder magic is not taught in those ghastly Circles. In amidst the wonders of magic, shapeshifting is deemed ‘unnatural’. Tis only because it is old magic, less easy to control.” She shook her head as she spoke, with a tsk. Then she turned to Caden and folded her arms before her. “And what do you think of me? Unnatural?”

“No.” Caden shook her head hurriedly, the plait swinging. “No, I think that’s amazing. I wish I could do that.”

Morrigan’s eyes narrowed as she assessed the truth in Cadens words. “Sadly you are not built for magic, else I would endeavour to teach you. But… I am pleased to hear that you are not bothered by my skills. There are those—” here she huffed towards the Chantry— “whose minds are closed to the wonders of magic and for those skilled enough to wield it.”

“Are you talking about the Revered Mother or Alistair?”

“Either. Both.” Morrigan surprised Caden with a warm, low laugh. “Alistair.”

Caden couldn’t help her smile, though she bit back an urge to chide Morrigan about demonising Alistair. She hadn’t seen enough evidence to believe that he was against mages, though of course his Templar training, from what she knew, wasn’t exactly a point in his favour there. “Are you coming inside for some breakfast?”

“No.” Morrigan didn’t bother to elaborate; she slipped forms from woman to crow and took flight without another word. Caden watched her go, wildly jealous of magic users and bewildered that anyone would think that trick was anything but remarkable.

Back inside the Chantry and the place was wide awake. Caden walked to Lelianas room to retrieve her boots. The rose was there, sitting quietly on the dresser as if its birth had not inspired a religious woman to take on a pilgrimage of sorts. Caden slipped her boots on then wandered over the to bloom, touching it gently with the tips of her fingers. She couldn’t say she’d ever seen a flower she had not liked, but this red rose was truly elevated above any she’d seen in its perfection. The red was so deep as to be almost scandalous, bringing to mind the sort of gift given from one lover to another. Something private shared between two people given in tangible form in the shape of this rose. She wondered if Nelaros would have ever have brought her flowers had they made it past the wedding day. She had mentioned once that she found flowers pretty and then regretted it as soon as she’d sent the letter containing that frivolous titbit of information. It had seemed so silly to write about something as trivial as flowers and surely he wouldn’t have cared, though she recalled he had written of the flowers at Highever, which had to be hardy to grow by the sea. Those seemed like flowers worth writing about, flowers that bloomed in adversity. Caden dipped to take in a quick sniff of the scent, felt it wash over her and then she turned away and went to find Alistair and formulate a plan to evacuate the village.

 

*

 

“The horde will not be contained for much longer. They will head north soon and Lothering is the next stop on that route.” Caden watched Alistair talk, his hands out to quieten the murmurs and occasional heckles. She hadn’t pictured this obstruction to what seemed like common sense words. “What happened at Ostagar was a blow, but the darkspawn suffered losses, too. Without the means to sustain themselves, they will be forced to return underground to recover. We must enable that to happen. None should linger here.”

“This is our home!” one person yelled. Cadens eyes darted to the old man, his grey hair falling limping into his eyes. “You can’t make us leave!”

“No, we can’t,” Alistair gave. “But we beseech you to pack up and head out.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” A woman asked, her arms full with a toddler, with two more children clutching at her skirt. “My whole family is from here; I’ve no-one else to call on.”

“I, that is we, recommend taking stock of how many there are in the town, then splitting you up into groups.” Alistair said, and Caden could see the droplets of sweat at his temples as he recounted what they had planned between them, with Lelianas assistance. “If anyone does have family who live in other Arlings, they can be sorted into groups to head to them. Anyone without can bolster numbers for smaller groups.”

“Where would we be going though?” The mother asked again.

“Er… we thought Redcliffe, South Reach and Denerim, mainly.” Alistair said. “Once you make it to those places and see the Arls in charge I’m sure they can distribute you further into the towns in their Arlings. It’s… really the best we can do.”

“Who’s going to protect us?” A young man piped up. “I can fight well enough for myself, but if I’m escorting my parents with me, I can’t defend us all and our livestock. We have sheep that we don’t intend to leave here.”

“No, of course not!” Alistair hurried to add. “You must take your livelihoods with you.”

“My livelihood is that windmill, lad,” an older man said, gesturing beyond the Chantry behind Alistair. “Can’t carry that. Can you?”

“Where will you be going?” Another voice chimed in. “Are you going to lead us away from our homes?”

“Well…” Alistair faltered as voices rose up. “The Templars might…”

Caden watched the sea of frightened faces turn to an easier to access emotion: anger. They were scared, they were pissed off and they were turning on the person who was trying to help. The trouble was that help equated to turfing folk out of their homes, ripping them up by the roots. She could empathise; wasn’t that almost what Duncan had done to her? Of course, her home still stood, unchanged, just went on without her. This place would be overrun by darkspawn before within a matter of days or weeks. They couldn’t stay and they couldn’t waste their energy on yelling. Caden felt her feet stomp along the ground towards her Warden-Brother.

“Hey! Hey!” She cried, her voice taking on a resonating tone she’d never heard come out of her mouth so loud. “Listen to me.” And miraculously they hushed. Caden didn’t stop to wonder at that, keeping the momentum going. “Look, we feel for you. Leaving your homes is… well, it’s awful. You belong here,” her gaze swept over the oldest folk in the crowd, “watching your children and your childrens’ children continue your legacy here. Whether that be toiling in the fields, or selling your wares on market day. Your futures were all planned to happen here.” She paused for a moment, watching their faces. “But you don’t have a choice. Your legacies end with you right here if you stay. I’m so sorry that the Blight was not defeated at Ostagar. We tried to stop it’s spread; all the men and women at the battle tried their hardest. I’m sure many of you feel that loss.” She glanced at the mother with the children, watched her oldest child nod and peer up at his mothers teary face. “I swear to each and every one of you that those lost will be avenged. I swear to you all that my Warden-Brother and I will not rest until justice is served.” A brief ripple of assent began, a few faces turned towards her with renewed fervour. “But you cannot help that cause by remaining here. This is the path of the floodwaters and we cannot defend against the tide that is rushing in. If we could, believe me we would.” She sheathed her sword again, taking a deep breath. The words were flowing so easily from her. “I left my home in Denerim a month ago. It was not my choice. I do understand the wrench of leaving Lothering to be swept away, but if you stay you will die. If you leave, you survive. You live on and so, too, does Lothering. Bricks and buildings can be broken, land may be blighted, but the people live on and through you Lothering continues.” Caden planted her feet firmly before the crowd and felt the weight of every pair of eyes on her. “We will help as much as we can, but we can’t make this choice for you. Only you can decide for yourselves and for your town. I implore that you make the right one.”

Her words ran out. Caden stood and kept her spine straight, her chin raised. It suddenly occurred to her that many of the folk in the crowd were looking down towards her face, some at the back probably couldn’t even see her. If she couldn’t be seen by all, she had made her voice loud, her words carefully targeted like arrows. She hoped someone had listened.

Just as the silence was about to turn awkward, she heard some clapping from one side and she turned towards the sound. Hawke was clapping as well as she could using her good hand to slap against the open palm of the arm which was in a sling. “Hear, hear!” Hawke called.

“Thank you, Hawke,” Caden said with a nod. The applause remained solely in Hawkes hands, but a few others took up the cheer. Caden hardly expected a massive outpouring of joy from a group who had been told to uproot and turn tail, but she was pleased to see the set in many of their eyes as they readied themselves for the sad task of packing up their belongings. Before the crowd could disperse, Ser Bryant stepped up and began to take up the charge of calling to folk to line up and speak with his men to inform them of any preferences in where they might be sent to. Caden felt it appropriate now to slip away and so she did, heading over to Alistair and Leliana where they stood with her dog. Leliana was beaming.

“I think you really got through to them,” she said in a low voice that was brimming with pride. “They’ve not really been listening to us tell them to evacuate before.”

“Well, I’m sure I was just the tipping point,” Caden said uneasily. “You all laid the foundations.”

Alistair was looking at her with a strange look in his eyes, that was just as unnerving as the praise being heaped on her by the Sister. “What?” Caden asked after a moment, her stomach swooping uncomfortably.

“Where did that come from?” He asked in an awed tone. “I was dying out there, but you… you _commanded_ them.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I think they really listened to you.”

“I hope so.” Caden murmured, looking over the crowd. They were gathering into lines, speaking to Templars with quills and parchment. A change was happening. She permitted herself a small, satisfied smile.

“I vote you do all the important speeches from now on.” Alistair declared. Caden rounded on him with a glare, but he only laughed. “You do them so much better than I do!”

“All the more reason to practise.” Caden shot back, but she was teasing. They were all a touch giddy with relief that their task in Lothering seemed to have gathered movement.

“Excuse me, miss?” Caden turned around again, looking down into the face of a small boy. “The Revered Mother asked me to give you this.” He held out an iron key in his hand and Caden took it, bemused. “She says you have the respect of the whole town, so who better to know what to do with it.”

“What’s it for?” Caden asked, but the boy had already disappeared into the crowd and away. She looked at the key, then to Alistair who was just as perplexed as she was. Leliana let out a brief sigh. “Leliana? Do you know what this opens?”

“I have a suspicion in mind.” Leliana began. “Oh, the Revered Mother has a sense of humour after all.” Another sigh. “Well, come on then. I had best introduce you to the Qunari.”

She began to walk away. Caden shared another bewildered glance with Alistair. “What’s a Qunari?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for the chapter title comes from Tones on Tail.


	21. Get Out Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caden learns a new skill in dealing with the Qunari prisoner in Lothering

_Don’t put your life in someone’s hands_

 

Caden and Leliana were stood before a great cage. Alistair looked past them both to the towering figure caught inside and wondered just how much stranger his life could become. “So… that key opens that lock that unleashes that man who killed five people?”

“Six.” Alistair glanced at the Qunari in the cage who had corrected him on the number, but was otherwise staring impassively outward, gazing at some distant point above all their heads.

“Six, then.” He amended, then muttered under his breath: “That makes me feel a lot better.”

Caden had her arms crossed and seemed to be considering something with a furrowed brow and thin lips. It was a familiar look; she was angry and for once, not with him. “He’s locked in a cage that barely holds him. He can’t sit down or lie down and when the darkspawn come, he’ll die.” Her eyes were dark. “He may be an accused murderer, but that is a cruel punishment.”

“You call me accused,” the Qunari said, directly to Caden. “I am a murderer. I do not contest this. This is the punishment that has been decided for me. I accept that.”

Alistair scratched his chin. He needed to shave; his stubble always irritated him too much to grow it into a full beard. He didn’t want to be here, standing before this giant man, listening to his cold self-assessment of his crime and the justice being served for it. It did seem an unusually unkind punishment to leave a man to rot to death, but that was what the Revered Mother had decided for him. Grey Wardens were not supposed to get involved with business not directly relating to darkspawn or the Blight, certainly no Chantry business or politics, and yet she had given Caden a key that was probably made for the lock on this cage, at least according to Lelianas theory. Looking at Caden now he felt his heart sink. She was holding the key in front of her now, looking at it, really looking.

“Leliana?” Caden asked without looking up. “You say you believe this will open…” she looked up. “What was your name?”

“You can call me Sten.” Sten replied, watching her curiously. Or at least Alistair thought he looked curious. The Qunari was hard to read.

“I could let you out.” Caden said, clutching her fingers tight around the key. It was quite large in her small hands. “If this key opens that lock, then I could let you out.”

“That is possible, yes.” Sten retorted.

“Caden,” Alistair started forward, coming up beside her, wishing Sten wasn’t standing right there. “Murdering six people isn’t something that happens by accident. That’s serious. Maybe…” he darted a glance at Sten, who was there but didn’t overly seem invested in their conversation about him. “maybe we should leave him where he is.”

When she turned her face up to him and he felt the full weight of her quiet condemnation of his words, Alistair felt his voice die in his throat. Somehow this was worse than her being cross with him. “Alistair, I know what it feels like to have someone important murdered in front of you so I understand the reason for punishing him.” Her voice was soft, but laden with the same command he had heard from her with the townsfolk. “I watched Nelaros die. I know loss and I also know revenge.”

“I know,” Alistair reminded her. “And I understand why you did it, but six people, Caden?”

He watched her face change, her eyes softening, her lower lip gently trembling as she replied with a brief moments’ hesitation. Her gaze dropped to his chest, unable to look him in the eye any longer. “I killed around that many.” She said in a murmur. “I think. It’s hard to remember the exact details of those who died before… before I got to Vaughan.”

Alistair forced himself to stay very still even as his heart leapt in his chest. His instinct, contrary to what he would have believed it would be, to hear a confession such as this, was to reach for her. She looked so sad and it was everything he could do not to pull her into his arms in that moment. She might have just told him she had ended the lives of several men on her wrathful journey to Vaughan Kendalls, but all Alistair could think of was how much he wanted to comfort her. He pushed it aside; they were on good terms and she was trusting him with this information. He couldn’t mess that up.

“We don’t focus on what’s gone before as Grey Wardens.” He said after a few moments, and it sounded so pitiful that he almost wished he hadn’t spoken. The silence grew and he felt a chill of cold sweat on the back of his neck at his own inability to say anything worthwhile.

Caden opened her hand, the key lying across her palm. “The Revered Mother gave this to me. She must have wanted me to use it. Why else would she give it?” Alistair watched as Caden stepped away from him and the chill intensified. Had he made a mistake, said the wrong thing? Not said enough? Or did she just not want to discuss it further? “Leliana, why do you think the Revered Mother gave it to me?”

Leliana, who had been wordlessly standing by with Rosa as the two Wardens had conversed, ruminated for a moment. “I never believed the Revered Mother felt comfortable with this sentence.” She said after a while. “That the man should die, she agreed, but this display was not her normal suggestion. The Bann had already fled, so it fell to her to pass judgement and the village demanded blood. There were children amongst the victims.”

Alistair sighed and turned away; this was a step too far. In fact it was many, many steps over the line. _Children_ …

He heard the tremor in Cadens voice as she spoke to Sten again. “Is that true?”

“It is.”

No hint of emotion in those words, Alistair reflected. It did not feel him with joy to hear that.

“Children.” Caden repeated, and Alistair could hear how that affected her. He turned back, but just watched without speaking. She was feeling the weight of the iron key in her hand. Thinking. In that moment Alistair knew he would defer to her; this would be no snap judgement; this would be a decision that she alone bore. Perhaps that was selfish, to allow her to take this on alone when he kept impressing on her that they were a team. He had a strong sense, following her speech to the village, that she was taking the responsibility of every inhabitant of Lothering seriously. Responsibility that extended to this self-confessed murderer, responsibility hitched to her by the Revered Mother. A bite of annoyance nipped at him, that the woman who had passed the sentence should then pass it to Caden, but then how was that any better than him standing aside and letting Caden decide alone?

“Leliana, you said you knew how to pick locks?” Caden was asking. Leliana nodded. “And that you were willing to teach this skill?” Another nod. “Very well. Sten, I offer you a chance. I will go back to the village with my companions and practise the art of lockpicking with my teacher here. I will return in one hour and if I can succeed in picking the lock, I will free you.” Caden squared her shoulders. “Do you accept this proposal?”

“Very well.”

“In the meantime, Alistair?” His eyes snapped to hers at once. “Would you find Sten some food and water please?”

“I, er, of course.” He stammered. Caden nodded and turned away, heading back to the village with the others following behind. Alistair hurried to her side. “How did you come up with that?”

Caden glanced at him sheepishly, the stern expression fleeing at once. “It was adapted from one of the fairy tales I used to read. I didn’t know what else to do. I can’t leave him like for the darkspawn to find, despite what he did. And I guess it doesn’t seem fair for some of us to get second chances and not others.”

Alistairs mouth twitched and he struggled to hold back at smile at these words. Of all the things he had imagined running through her mind… “What if you can’t pick the lock?” He asked.

Leliana smiled and led them towards the Chantry. “I am a great teacher.” She said with assurance. “I’m sure Caden will be a master in no time.”

A short while later Alistair returned to Sten with some bread, sausage and a jug of water. The Qunari was so still that he appeared not to have moved an inch since they had departed. He refused the food, claiming that Alistair could leave it by the cage and that he would eat if and only if he was freed. Otherwise, he claimed, why delay the inevitable? Alistair shrugged, not sure what else to do and set the things down. Turning to leave Sten spoke again and compelled him to turn back: “You let the small elf girl dictate your path?” His impassive eyes bored into Alistair. “I find it unusual.”

“She… you should be thanking her.” Alistair remarked lightly. “She’s going to save your life. How long has it been since you were locked up?”

“I am unsure. Twenty days perhaps.” Sten replied.

Alistair gaped. “Twenty days? Makers breath. You might end up owing her a lot then when she frees you.”

“You seem remarkably confident in the untested ability of a small elf girl.” Sten replied.

“Don’t call her that.” Alistair chided. “At least not to her face. She’s small, but she can be vicious.”

“Are you not the leader?” Sten asked. “Why do you follow her orders?”

Alistair fumbled for a moment as he grasped for words. He hadn’t exactly expected to get into conversation with the Qunari on his brief mission. “She didn’t order me to do anything, she asked.”

“Why do you comply then?”

This answer came to him easily, and he replied without a moments pause: “Because she’s my friend.”

 

*

 

The tools seemed strangely familiar. Caden couldn’t imagine where she’d possibly seen these items before as she unfurled the leather wrapping hiding these items. Part of her mind was whirring with the possibilities for why Leliana happened to have lockpicks, pliers and small hooks. What life had she left behind to join the Chantry, the life that taught her how to cut without killing, mend as well as wound and come to have these well-worn tools? The story behind it all was too thrilling to discover, much like that old, old feeling of sitting down with her mother for a new story. It struck her then that Adaia had a leather roll similar to this and she had had small hooks. For crochet, she seemed to recall, though where they had ended up after her death was a mystery that hadn’t plagued Cadens mind until this moment when the smell of leather hit her. She touched her finger to the wooden handles as they sat in their individual pouches.

“Alright, I’m ready to give this a try.” Caden said, rolling the leather back up and binding it. She looked up; the cage was built in such a way as to place the lock right atop the cage, so that even if Sten had the means to break himself out, he wouldn’t have been able to reach his hands up and through the top of the cage to reach it. She could see the practicality in that, but knowing what was coming, it just seemed cruel again. It also posed a problem. “How am I supposed to get up there?” She wondered outloud.

“I thought perhaps Alistair might give you a boost.” Leliana put forth helpfully. Caden spun, heat rising in her cheeks. “He is very tall.”

Alistair was flushing just as red as Caden suspected she was going as she hugged the tools to her chest and wished she could sink into the ground. Morrigan, who had done a reappearing act as they congregated around the cage, chuckled. “I am so glad that I am here for this.”

“Shut up Morrigan,” Alistair snapped. Caden winced at the harsh tone in his voice; she would have to find her own way up if the idea of helping her was so awful.

“It’s fine.” Caden said hurriedly, turning to the wooden stake that held the cage fast. The cage rested on the grass, but the wooden pole beside it crept up and over the top and that was where there lock was. Her eyes ran up the length of the wood. The cage looked like it was sturdy enough, weighed down by the Qunari. She could climb up, she was almost certain. She’d climbed the walls to sit on roofs at the Alienage, to spy the city beyond the walls in her youth. She tested her boots on the ground, rubbing her toes into the dirt. They weren’t Adaias boots but they would do. Hopefully. Or else she would fall on her face and humiliate herself and probably lose any respect she might have gained from her companions. So she couldn’t fall.

“Here,” Caden held the tools out to Alistair, who took them with a confused frown. “Hold onto these for a moment, will you?”

Morrigan shifted where she stood, her casual demeanour momentarily slipping. Leliana just stood and smiled, her pretty face giving nothing away.

No theatrics, she decided. She hadn’t done this in a while and certainly not with an audience, not since she, Shianni and Soris had been children. No running jumps, no leaps. She had to be sensible or it would end in tears.

She stepped up to the cake and wrapped her hands around the iron bars. No, that wouldn’t work. She could already feel nervous sweat on her palms, making them slick. She bent down and collected some soft dirt, coating her hands. She replaced her grip; that was better. With careful placement, she lifted her foot and planted it sideways on the wood. Pressing against the wood, she took a deep breath and lifted herself, so that her other leg could step over the first. Shutting out the others, she took a moment to check her grasp, then in a quick dart of speed, she reached one hand highed up the cage. If anyone was speaking, she didn’t hear them, not while her blood roared and her chest burned with the effort. She could feel the old wound from the Tower of Ishal on her ribs complain as she forced her body to hold itself together as she slowly, excruciatingly climbed as a spider would up the cage, until she could haul herself bodily on top of the thing.

Caden let out the breath she hadn’t meant to hold, and for a moment remained as still as possible, righting her sense of balance and trying to stop from shaking. She wasn’t quite secure above Sten on the iron bars for a few embarrassingly long moments and she didn’t want to fall.

“Alright, pass me the tools,” she said after a while, reaching slightly down and extending her arm. Alistair, eyes wide, recovered and laughed appreciatively as he held the leather wrap up to her.

“You’re mad,” he said and it didn’t sound like a slight. Caden met his gaze and grinned self-consciously.

“I used to climb everything when I was younger.” Caden explained, suddenly shy. It occurred to her with a jolt that it might have looked like showing off, when really it was just the only way to avoid the crisis of letting Alistair pick her up. Another more unpleasant sudden shock had her clasping the cage in a panic as she remembered the sensation of flying through the air, to land on Vaughans bed. “I climbed my house all the time.” She forced the words out and blinked, hard, to shake the bad memory that had forced its way into her mind.

“Of course, you did.” Alistair grinned. “I’m not even surprised. Duncan really knew what he was doing when he recruited you.” His soft laugh petered out and, in its place, grew a sombre frown. Caden felt her face match his; she didn’t know what to say to that.

“As amusing as this is,” Morrigan drawled from the side, “I fail to see the point. Are you intending to recruit this person into your little gang of misfits or to release him to the wild, to potentially kill again?”

Almost as one both Alistair and Leliana made sounds of protestation: “Hey! Who’re you calling misfit?” Was Alistairs comment, while Leliana wondered aloud: “If the Maker wills it…”

Caden had unfurled the leather and was perusing the tools having first surveyed the heavy lock. It did seem odd to do this when she had the key in her possession, but doing it this way felt like Lelianas rose; like leaving it up to chance rather than making the choice herself. And yet, as she pulled out the first tool, she felt a thrum of confidence. She had practised for longer than the promised hour and under Lelianas skilful tutelage she had picked up enough to get by.

Sliding the pick into the lock, testing the first of the pins inside she knew she could do this. If she didn’t, if the lock jammed or the pick broke off inside, rendering the key useless, she would find a way to free Sten. No-one should die without the means to defend themselves.

“I might.” She replied to Morrigan after a long moment passed. She didn’t look away from her task as she spoke. “Is that what you want, Sten?”

“Let us see if you can release the lock first.” Sten replied, stoically facing forward and not looking up at her above him.

Alistair, nudged by Rosa into crouching down and fussing her, seemed to be bravely pushing through the wave of grief that had hit him before. “So, you fight with sharp knives, you climb roofs and cages, you get all silly over flowers, you seem to have an abundance of lives and you swipe at anyone who gets too close.” He listed, a wry smile on his face. “I think I’ve got you all figured out, Caden. You are a cat.”

Caden snorted, but didn’t reply. She inserted the next pick and began to manipulate the pins into the correct position. Hunched over the lock in the bright sunshine, her tongue slightly protruding, she concentrated and twisted and felt for every slight movement. Leliana had launched into some story about a lady in Orlais with what she claimed was the most pampered cat in all of Thedas and how she met her match, but that faded away as Caden worked.

“… and then in trying to get away from the new puppy, she slipped and fell right into the bath!” Leliana giggled at her own punchline. “She was one bedraggled looking cat after that!”

Caden tossed the lock down to the ground, where it did not bounce, but toppled onto its side and lay still. Leliana and Alistairs faces rose as Caden scrambled down from the top of the cage, accidentally copying the lock by landing awkwardly on her foot and tumbling onto her hip. Rosa pounced on her with great affection.

“You did it!” Leliana clapped.

“You did it.” Alistair echoed, surprising across his face, but he was nodding with new respect. “Good job.”

“And now the murderer is free.” Came Morrigans dour assessment.

Caden looked up as the cake swung open and a shadow fell over her on her backside on the grass. Sten peered down at her. “What now Sten?”

The Qunari stretched his neck from one side to the other, harsh popping sounds shattering the quiet. “My thanks to you.” Sten said with a deep incline of his head. Caden got to her feet, but he still towered over her. Sten seemed to consider her for a moment. “My people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens. Their unmatched strength, their vast skill. You do not look strong, though you have proved to posses some skill. Perhaps there is some merit to those legends. I would like to investigate further and perhaps I can be of some aid to your quest.” His voice, for the first time, took on some emotion as he dropped his gaze. “Perhaps I might find my atonement.”

Caden smiled. She knew that feeling all to well. “I’m glad to have you with us Sten. I hope you find what it is you seek with us.”

 

*

 

It became clear over the next hour that releasing Sten had the effect of rendering the Wardens and their group unwelcome with the townsfolk. His tall, imposing figure standing behind Caden before the townsfolk only caused them to cower away. Even when the Revered Mother herself came forward to declare that she had allowed the Qunari to be released into the Wardens custody, it wasn’t enough to assuage the people of Lothering. They didn’t try to hound them out of town, but equally they made it clear that they needed to leave. It was agreed they would get their stuff together and get going; they offered to help escort those who were heading to Redcliffe, but this offer was hotly declined. The Qunari was a pariah and he had tainted the others by association. It was a source of some amusement to Caden that Morrigan elected to hide no longer, as if she knew that barely anyone registered her presence while a literal figure of their nightmares stood by. Furthermore, the idea of having the town shrink away from her due to the Qunari felt ridiculous. She was already tainted; her blood ran with darkspawn ichor and she was a killer, yet these were invisible to onlookers. It was a weirdly powerful feeling.

She was able to wield this newfound power quite by accident when she approached the armourer to see if she could figure out some arrangement to procure Alistairs now repaired shield for him, despite her lack of funds. Caden had warily stepped up to the man, fingering her wedding ring, the only item of any value she held and which she could live without. Yet with her looming shadow behind her – Sten electing to remain with her after she had been the one to break the lock on his cage – the armourer wasn’t interested in bartering. He thanked her for what she and her companions had done for the town and thrust the shield at her, stammering that no payment was necessary. It wasn’t until she had returned to Alistair that she had realised just how helpful Stens presence had been.

The one person Caden did seek out and who did not flinch from her gaze was Hawke. Despite the town turning their backs to her group, she was concerned that they would drag their heels and not make a hasty retreat, but Hawke assured her that she would stay. “My family are here, this place was my home, but I’ll not see anyone fall to keep the village standing.” Hawke told Caden, out of earshot of the bustle of activity as wagons were packed with belongings and livestock was wrangled. “My father told me once he owed a great deal to the Wardens for helping him get out of the Free Marches with my mother, so it feels right that I should help you. He died a few years ago, so I stepped into his role.” She looked around the people moving around, calling to each other and corralling children. “I’ll stay until they’re gone. You can count on that.”

Caden nodded. “Thank you, Hawke.” She didn’t really know how to impart just how grateful she was. “Where will you go? We shall be at Redcliffe if you make it out that way.”

Hawke wrinkled her nose, the wound healing into what looked like it would be a permanent scar and she chuckled softly. “It all comes full circle. My mother reckons we should head out of Ferelden, back to Kirkwall. She has family there. I can’t say I’m enthusiastic; I fought in Fereldens army… well, for about five minutes before I fell.” She gave a self-deprecating smirk. “Still, I stood by the king and it feels… it feels a little like turning my back on my home.”

“You should go,” Caden said. “If you have family who can shelter you, that’s something. You’ve done your bit for the war effort after all.” She shrugged one shoulder, with a wry smile. “You go: I’ve got this.”

Hawke burst out laughing and clapped her hand on Cadens back, nearly winding the elf. “Alright, Caden. I’ve got a good feeling about you, so hey, don’t let Ferelden go down without a fight.”

“I won’t, Hawke.” Caden said, with more sincerity than their gallows humour exchange. Hawke sobered and nodded.

“Liv,” Hawke offered.

At first Caden thought Hawke was giving her to order to not die in the quest to save Ferelden, but then it occurred to her that in fact she was learning Hawkes name. “Alright, Liv. I hope I see you again.”

“Maybe you will.” Liv said, extending her hand for Caden to shake. “Someday.”

“Someday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for the title comes from the band Three Days Grace.
> 
> And so the party ends their time at Lothering. There's one more chapter in this section and then it's time for the party to deal with Redcliffe!


	22. Wide Eyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions run high and low on the journey to Redcliffe.

_How long will I blame it all on past life tragedy_

 

Alistair had a shield on his back again. The metal shone in the afternoon sunlight as they walked the weight of it brought him great comfort. He did need to start training without it, lest he find himself without again and vulnerable, but for now he was just glad to have it back. He’d managed to squeeze in a bath and a shave before departing and he rubbed his chin, feeling the smooth skin, albeit with a small nick where the razor blade had slipped. The wound he’d sustained in the Tower of Ishal lingered on in the form of a silver scar line down his jaw. He wondered if it would fade away entirely someday or if that battle would be etched on his skin forever. He cast a sideways glance at Caden who was laughing at something Rosa had done. She seemed to have come away relatively unscathed from their doomed quest to light the beacon, though he was certain that wasn’t the case at all. He remembered the aftermath of the ogre fight with difficulty, could remember her running towards the darkspawn in what he now knew had been a gallant effort to grant him the chance to escape. He remembered falling and trying to get to her. Nothing after that. She’d been cut down by the darkspawn, but the details of that moment were lost to him. Besides, he mused as his feet crunched on a twig across his path, some scars ran deeper than those that were visible to onlookers and he was sure she carried enough of those.

Some of his own past worries were bubbling to the surface of his mind. They were heading for Redcliffe, finally, which was a blessed thing in many ways. Returning to the place he had called home from birth to aged ten, the place where he had known horses as his companions and named their offspring after cheeses. The place he had played with other young boys, servant’s sons from the castle and a few from the village. He’d fished from the lake with them, chased them, played hide and seek. Yes, there were many joyful memories.

He sighed quietly as the less than pleasant thoughts took over.

Redcliffe was the home of the man he had, for a time, believed to be his father. Nobody had misled him, but small children see the world as is presented to them and if the other children had fathers and mothers, and nobody had told him he had neither, then he had looked for his and his sights had landed on Eamon. It made the most sense to a boy looking for someone who embodied a parent; wasn’t he the man who ran his home, who ate meals with him, who taught him how to shoot a bow? Just like all the other fathers did. Eamon had been kind when he had explained that no, he was not Alistairs father, but that he had known the mysterious man and that he had been a good person and that was why Eamon was caring for his friends son. Alistair had been less forgiving when further information came to light, which to him proved that Eamon might not have been acting purely out of the goodness of his heart. There were orphans enough in Redcliffe and none of them had been taking in by the Arl after all. It wasn’t long after that, that Arlessa Isolde had decided in her wisdom and with the apparent support of her besotted husband, that Alistair might feel more at home with the horses he loved.

Looking over at Caden again, Alistair felt his stomach flip flop with anxiety. She wasn’t one for asking personal questions, unlike him. Given the chance he would have loved to sit down with her and pick her brains, get to know the woman underneath the ferocity. The brief insights into her past that she had shared were filed away neatly in his mind, drawing a smile from him as he watched her briefly dart off the road to the bushes and emerge with a small posy of yellow flowers.

His urge to share didn’t work both ways. He was in no hurry to talk to Caden about his father’s identity no matter how much he wanted to learn about her. He had never actually had to say the words out loud; everyone who mattered who knew him already knew why he was a bastard and exactly what breed of one he was. Arl Eamon, Bann Teagan, Warden-Commander Duncan. King Cailan had known as well, though Alistair had a hard time considered him to be someone who mattered. Someone who was complicated, sure, and who evoked difficult feelings from Alistair, yes, but not necessarily someone who mattered to him.

Caden, admittedly by default at first, but as the days wore on by design, was becoming someone who mattered a great deal.

Alistair had meant his words when he had told her that if she were to quit on him, he might just lie down and await the coming of the horde. There was strength in numbers, even if that number only went as high as two and there was comfort in feeling the burden of Fereldens future shared by both Wardens.

Rosa came bounding over to Alistair, forcing him out of his deeply mired thoughts and eliciting another smile as he reached to pat her. Caden had stopped for a moment and so he and the dog caught up to her and then she fell into step beside him. He marvelled at her ability to keep the pace with him, given his longer stride, but perhaps by now she was used to keeping up. It occurred to him he possibly ought to slow down instead and match hers, but when he tried that he found she quickly walked ahead of him so he reverted to his normal pace. Better to make good time after all; they had left after lunch and so had much less daylight to work with that he would have preferred.

The two Wardens maintained the lead, with Leliana and Sten walking behind, he ignoring any attempts by the now leather armour clad Sister to draw him into conversation. Morrigan was, it turned out, skilled in taking on different forms, so she was flying ahead as a crow. That had been a fun surprise, Alistair thought wryly. Of course, Caden had known. Yet another moment where sharing might have been appreciated.

“How far is Redcliffe?” Caden asked as they walked. Alistair frowned slightly. She’d asked that before they left a couple of hours ago. She surely hadn’t forgotten, so was this an actual attempt by her at making polite conversation with him?

“That depends,” Alistair said in a light drawling tone. “Are you asking how far by horseback, by foot or…” he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his mouth tugging at one corner into a smirk, “as the crow flies?” There. That would be the test of whether they were getting better at being friends or not.

Caden walked on beside him, her eyes forward. For a dreadful moment Alistair had his heart in his throat, certain he’d made a fateful error after all. But then she spoke and it wasn’t to ask the distance to Redcliffe again. “If you could turn into any bird,” was what she said, thoughtfully, “which would you choose?”

Alistair almost laughed out loud in relief and in bemusement at her question. He decided to push his teasing a little further. “Well, _I_ would never possess such skills because if _I_ were a mage, _I_ would be a well-behaved Circle mage and _I_ would never learn such banned magic.” Caden made a small tsk sound of chiding, but she let him waffle on unopposed. He tugged at an itch on his ear as he thought. “I guess I would pick a useful bird. Something that can aid people or the war effort, like a raven. They carry missives and letters, so that’s what I’d do.” Alistair said decisively, but then a new idea popped into his head and shoved out his whole useful bird idea. “No, scratch that, I’d be an owl. I’d get to fly around at night-time all silent and swoopy and majestic.”

“That makes sense.” Caden nodded. “Have you ever seen a baby owl? They’re basically balls of feathers with huge eyes. I can see that about you.”

Alistair laughed, but pretended to be offended. “You wound me, my lady, with your assertions of me being anything other than mighty!” He puffed out his chest and pounded one gloved hand against it, the clang of metal on metal ringing out.

Caden rolled her eyes, with a smirk of her own. Alistair smiled again, pleased to see her good cheer. “How about you? What obviously far superior choice would you pick?” Gauntlet firmly thrown.

“A sparrowhawk.” Came the reply, clearly something she had served up ready to go when she asked the question in the first place.

“Alright, and why?”

“I used to watch them in the Alienage.” Caden explained. “They’re small, but fast. I’ve never seen one caught and they’re really tough. I once watched a mama bird take down a whole pigeon and she barely had a scratch on her.” She seemed to notice the look on Alistairs face. “What?”

“I should have guessed you’d pick something vicious, with little bother about fighting something bigger than itself.” He joked. “No fluffy birds for you.”

Caden shrugged a slight tinge of self-consciousness pinking her cheeks. “The other elves used to try to shoo the sparrowhawks away so they could catch the pigeons themselves, but I liked them. That mama bird had four babies to feed. She needed that pigeon just as much as we did.”

“Ah, so it’s not the wicked beak and talons that appealed to you?” Alistair asked. “It’s the nurturing side of that bird of prey that drew you to her?”

Now Caden let her eyes narrow at him. “Oi. This is my game and if you tease, I won’t let you play.”

Alistair chuckled, holding up his hands in defeat. “I give! My apologies for my lack of good sportsmanship. Is it my turn to ask a question?” She nodded and so he frowned in thought. “Alright, then, if you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what type of cheese would it be?”

 

*

 

“That wood is too damp.” Caden looked down at the pile she’d just dropped. Sten had barely even glanced at it before giving his dour assessment.

“It felt fine to me.”

“No.” Sten said, continuing to build a boundary of rocks around the bowl he had scooped out of the earth. “It is too green.”

“You said damp before.”

Now Sten glared up at her. “The wood is green with youth and the bark is damp underneath. This is not my opinion, it is a fact.” From her spot by the packs where she was pulling loose pans and going over the vegetables they had brought, Morrigan glanced towards the elf and the Qunari with a smirk.

Caden dipped down to see for herself; it still looked fine. Sten reached his long arms over and plucked a thin branch, bending it. “It bends, but does not snap.” The bark shifted and finally a break occurred, not quite in two, but exposing what seemed like the inner flesh of the branch. It was green. “This is healthy wood, not long felled. In time it may prove useful as firewood, but as it is it will produce too much smoke as it burns, if it burns at all. Do better.”

Caden stood with a huff, her eyes burning. She gave her pile of wood a childish kick, scattering the sticks before stalking off in the direction of the forest surrounding the clearing off the road they had found, Rosa at her heels. The mabari sniffed through the undergrowth, the ferns and small shoots. Caden shoved her bad mood aside in favour of riling up the dog. “What can you smell, girl? Is it rabbits? You want to find a rabbit?”

Her excitable tone did the trick and Rosa started bounding around, ears pricked, tongue lolling. It roused laughter from Caden. Sten and Morrigan were making camp, while Leliana was hunting something for them to eat and Alistair was refilling everyone’s water skins from a brook slightly out of sight, but not out of earshot of their small camp. It had left only collecting firewood for Caden, a task she had been sure she would complete with ease. Evidently not. Rosa stopped, head up, before bouncing off. Caden let her go. She didn’t imagine she would lose Rosa; she seemed too at home with the group to think about bolting. Of course, Caden could have been wrong about that, too, she thought crossly as she searched for better wood.

She came across a fallen tree, its roots exposed to the air, with a hole in the ground where it had once stood. Caden climbed up on top of the large trunk, enjoying a greater vantage point of the forest around her. It was quiet here, the light slowly turning from blue to gold, but there was birdsong. She didn’t know what bird was making which sound, although the fast tapping of a woodpecker reached her ears. She walked along the trunk, before reaching those dead roots and peering over into the hole. It was much deeper down here than anywhere else, the hole a deep well of dirt. There was nothing in there which looked interesting, so she turned and padded along the trunk again finding her way to what once was the top of the tree. There were branches here, some half snapped off. That was her goal, but she was distracted en route.

Along the trunk were some growths that she recognised as fungi. As for what type or whether they were edible she did not know, but she knew how she could find out. Hurriedly, Caden collected the fallen branches, yanking off those which hung by a thread, pleased to see they were all white and brittle inside and she headed back to camp.

“Here you go.” She announced, dumping the second pile of wood beside Sten. He nodded once, but Caden had already turned to head for her pack. The others were back now, including Rosa, who was muzzle deep in the belly of a rabbit. “Good girl,” she said with a brief pat on her rear as Caden walked by.

Leliana was plucking the feathers out of a grouse with two more slung up behind her. Caden was caught by an urge to stop and ask for archery lessons next time they needed fresh meat; the well-worn bow that Leliana had worn across her body during the walk had been put to good use, but Caden was on a mission now.

Alistair was standing by the single tent they had, hands on his hips. As Caden walked by he called to her: “One tent between five will make for very cosy bedfellows, eh?”

Caden dove for her pack, rifling through it without responding. Alistair turned towards her to watch her search. “I suppose you and the other women can take it. I’ve got my trusty bedroll for some lovely outside sleeping.” Still she searched; it _would_ be right at the bottom of the bag. “Mind you it also depends how we break up the watches overnight. Do you think we should switch out more often and take shorter watches, or let two people sleep all night and keep to three watches?” Ah, there it was. Caden grabbed the foraging book given to her by Flemeth and stood.

“Caden?” She blinked, had only been half listening to Alistair. “Did you hear me?”

“Um. No.” She replied truthfully, holding up the book already heading away. “I’ll be back shortly; I just want to check something while I still have the light.”

“Do you want some company?”

“I’m fine.” Caden said, not breaking her stride as she headed back to the fallen tree. “Back soon.”

“Oh… alright.” Alistair answered. “Be careful.”

“I will.” She had already started rifling through the pages, searching for the relevant pages.

The tree wasn’t far and the light was fine for what she needed it for, though she knew it wouldn’t be long before the sun was gone. She flicked to the page were the sketches of flat mushrooms were. Her finger traced the descriptions as the drawings were inked, but not coloured. The words accompanying the sketch mirrored what she was seeing; a slightly curved reddish cluster of mushrooms peppered along the tree trunk. The writing went on to say that this particular fungus grew almost exclusively on the Elder tree. Naturally she had no idea what they looked like, so she flicked back to see if there were any descriptions for trees and found none. Considering it briefly, she grabbed a leafy twig off the tree so she could ask Morrigan back at camp if these leaves looked right, then she pulled out the dagger she had stolen from the bandits and carefully sliced the mushrooms away from the tree. She was able to stack them up as she’d forgotten to bring a bag with her, and then she clamped the book under her arms and turned.

A noise in the bushes froze her solid as she watched, eyes narrowed for any sign of danger. A small orange face appeared out of the undergrowth, followed by the rest of the body, ending in a bushy tail. Caden kept still, excited to see the fox in its natural habitat. It looked at her and held itself in place. They regarded each other for a while, before the fox turned tail and headed away, not rushing, seemingly aware it was in no danger. Caden smiled after it, then headed for camp.

As she came in sight of the treeline and the now flickering light of a roaring fire, with a tripod and a pot hanging over the flames, Caden heard her name. Just as she had before at the sight of a wild animal, Caden’s feet took root and stood fast. She held her bounty tight and listened.

Alistair was handing Leliana something as she stirred the pot, Sten was sitting perfectly still, gazing into the depths of the flames. Morrigan was still by the packs, slightly away from the two talkative members of the party. It was them discussing her.

“…I assumed as much.” Leliana was saying. “I saw the ring after all.”

“Yes, very sad story.” Alistair nodded. “Obviously I don’t know the exact circumstances as it happened before Caden joined the Wardens, but her husband was killed. Murdered in fact, I believe.”

“How awful.” Leliana clucked sympathetically. “I always wonder what trials lead folk to join up with the Grey Wardens. She must be carrying a lot of pain.”

“Not that she would show.” Alistair went on. “I don’t think she likes looking weak; she did break down after Ostagar when she realised her belongings were still at our old camp, which means they’re lost. She said she had letters from Nelaros, that was his name.”

Cadens hands clenched as rage heated her blood and her fingers dug into the velvety side of the mushrooms with a soft pop. What in the name of the Void was he doing? Talking about her, telling her private life to the others without even consulting her? That she had cried in Flemeths hut after the battle was nobody’s business. She _hated_ that Alistair had been there to witness it, but she would never had expected him to gossip about that moment like this. Cheapening it. Humiliating her.

The sound of Nelaros’ name on Alistair tongue shot a bolt of fury into her heart. Her feet would not move so she was forced to endure more.

“Duncan, our Commander, he recruited her,” Alistair was saying, his voice softer now as he dealt with his own ongoing grief. “He told me how he had conscripted her right off the pillory. He saved her life basically.” He sighed. “Duncan was a great man. I wish he were here to guide us.”

Saved her life? Caden felt her skin prickle with cold anger. With great shame, she felt moisture on her cheeks. She tried to wipe it with her shoulder, but the mushrooms almost fell. She couldn’t stand there forever.

With a deep breath she stomped through the trees emerging into the clearing. Several pairs of eyes lifted to her face and she avoided them all. “I brought these.” She said, hating the tremor in her voice and setting the mushrooms down. “I used your mothers’ book.” She directed this at Morrigan without fully turning to her as she waved the book. “It said they grow on Elder trees, but I don’t know what they look like, so I got a twig. Can you tell from the leaves?” This was fine, talking about the mushrooms was fine. It was all fine so long as no-one asked her how she was feeling or the hot ball of fury and sorrow would explode out of her.

Leliana reached for the twig and touched the leaves. “This looks right to me.” She smiled, but Caden kept her gaze averted. “Thank you Caden. These will go nicely in the stew.”

“Caden?” Alistair asked, a note of caution in his voice as he half rose from his seat. “Are you alr—?”

“What else do we need?” Caden cut through quickly. “Do we need more water? I can get some.”

“I got it earli—”

“Oh right, of course.” Cadens mind frantically cast around for something, anything else to get her away from there. She heard Rosa whine, perturbed by her mistresses’ suffering. Caden really couldn’t look at the dog; if ever there was a sure-fire way to break the dam of tears it would be the mabaris sweet, dark eyes. “Was the wood alright? I can get more?”

“It will suffice.” Sten replied, characteristically to the point.

_Shit_. “Fine, well, Rosa needs to stretch her legs, so come on girl,” She started for the opposite edge of camp, patting her thigh to call the hound to her side.

“Caden,” Alistair’s imploring tone was touched with guilt or perhaps that was her imagination. Caden didn’t stop to talk, she brushed through camp and headed out of the clearing.

 

*

 

She was by the stream. Even in the dim light just after sundown he could see her form sitting by the water, her dog sitting at her side. She had her arm slung around the mabari, her face turned into the fur. Rosa peered around as he drew slowly closer, her tail thumping once, twice only, but otherwise making no move. Alistair swallowed. She didn’t move, but he was certain she must know he was there; he wasn’t a light-footed elf like she was. He stepped closer, eventually coming to a stop on the other side of Caden to the mabari. He dropped down to sit beside her. Her back was turned to him, her face still buried against Rosas side.

“Caden?” He asked softly. The sound of the stream would have been relaxing under normal circumstances, but the air felt heavy with tension. “Talk to me.”

She turned then, releasing Rosa and fixing him with a pained expression. Her eyes were dark and stormy. “Why? You were talking enough for the both of us.”

Alistair frowned. “If I’ve done something wrong, I’d like to know.”

“How could you?” Her voice came out quiet, but burning. A coal that was still too hot to touch. “How could you tell them all that stuff about me? That was my story to tell, or not tell. It was my choice.”

Alistair felt a creeping dread of shame crawl up his back, but even as he felt that sense of needing to apologise, he found himself reaching for a joke with a humourless chuckle. “Well, I guess I thought if I left it to you, they’d never…” but he trailed off. He couldn’t force a joke out of this.

Caden was shaking. That struck him suddenly, her head turned away to look over the water, hands clamped between her thighs, her body holding so tightly still that it shook. It was only then that Alistair became horribly aware of just how serious this was. “Caden, I’m _sorry_.” How many times had he said that to her in their short time together?

“You had no right,” she said haltingly, her breath hitching. “It was my story, you weren’t there, you don’t know…”

“Leliana asked about your wedding ring.” It sounded pathetic even to him. “She asked about people joining the Wardens if they were married and I just started to explain and then it all came out.”

“You don’t get to talk about Nelaros.” Cadens voice cracked as she spoke, the words biting sharply. “I don’t ever want to hear you say his name again. You don’t get to talk about me or my wedding or what I did.”

Alistair couldn’t help the edge of irritation that slipped into his voice as he replied: “Caden, you all but told them what happened when we were debating letting Sten free. That wasn’t me. You said you watched N— your husband die. You said you killed several men.” He shrugged helplessly. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you expected of me. You gave away that information, I was just asked about it later.”

“Just when I think we could…” Caden broke off, shaking her head slowly. “It’s never going to work.”

“What isn’t?” Alistair asked. He leaned forwards, entering her space, watching as she shrank towards the dog but had nowhere else to go. “Are you leaving?”

“No!” Caden snapped back, clearly uncomfortable, but he just couldn’t give back the space until he was sure. “I told you that I’m seeing this through. I’m not a quitter. I meant you and me being friends. I tried, and I can’t.”

Alistair reeled back away. “Just because we don’t always get along—”

“We _never_ get along.” Caden responded hotly. “Not enough. We fight all the time over everything. I piss you off, and you get mad at me. I get upset with you and you say you’re sorry, _again_.” She pushed up to standing and Alistair hurried to match her. “Face it, Alistair, humans and elves aren’t meant to be friends.”

Alistair felt heat rise in his cheeks as anger coursed through his veins. “How can you say that? I have _never_ treated you differently because you’re an elf.” His mouth tasted bitter as he refuted her claims. “Maybe that’s all in your head, I don’t know, because you don’t tell me. I’m supposed to just guess what you’re going through unless you get angry with me and then you have no trouble telling me how terrible I am.”

“Fuck you, Alistair.” Caden snarled. “Fuck you for acting like you have any idea what I’ve been through. Fuck you for telling me I’m making it all up. Maybe if you’d watched an elf murder your husband in front of you, you might have some feelings towards them.”

“Oh, I’ve met plenty of mean-spirited elves in my time,” Alistair snapped back. “I know you after all, but I don’t intend to tar every elf I meet with the same brush.” Cadens face pinched up momentarily and he wondered what she would fire back with. His chest was rising and falling fast, the fury driving his breath from him, but with the pause that followed his last retort, it started to fade. He couldn’t quite believe the words he had just spoken, even if she had at times been unkind towards him. It wasn’t right to lash out when she was quite obviously already upset. He felt the corrosive taste of guilt in his mouth. Caden was still standing before him, saying nothing. He suddenly knew he didn’t want her to continue this fight. It had already gone too far. They both needed to cool off. “Look,” he said, not quite sure what would come out next as he scrambled for the right words, “we’re both tired. I promise I won’t talk about you anymore.” He turned his hands up, palms skyward. A gesture of peace as he continued his attempts at dousing the flames of their argument. “Let’s just get back to camp and have something to eat and figure out how to split the night shift…”

Caden had already turned and walked off, followed by Rosa whose head was down, her ears low. Alistair shut his mouth and swallowed the irritation, his hands curling into fists. Damn her. “Great work, Alistair.” He muttered to himself. “Just great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Wide Eyed which I use for the chapter title is by Billy Lockett.
> 
> That's the last chapter in part 2. Next chapter we arrive (finally) at Redcliffe. If you're sticking with me so far, thank you so much. I'm sorry it's taking so long!


	23. I Won't Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party make it to Redcliffe, but Alistair is thwarted when he tries to open up to Caden about his past.

**PART THREE - REDCLIFFE AND KINLOCH**

* * *

_But you’re not lost on your own_

 

The journey to Redcliffe took longer than Caden would have liked, helped no doubt by the fact that she and Alistair were barely speaking. After their fight five days ago, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to try to get things on friendlier terms again. Her grievances remained firmly in place, growing fresh layers every day, strengthening her walls against letting him in again. He would learn how long she could hold a grudge for.

When it felt petty and petulant, which if she admitted it, was most nights just before falling asleep; when she felt a few pangs of guilt at how she was punishing him; when she felt like a fraud for maintaining the illusion that Nelaros had ever been her husband, as if his death as her betrothed wasn’t tragic enough; in those moments she would force herself to list the ways Alistair had messed up. An exercise in resentment, she remembered each time he had minimised her ongoing wariness of human men, how he’d patted himself on the back for not being deliberately awful, yet had continued to say inadvertently stupid things, such as that the elves in Lothering had chosen not to integrate. Maybe he couldn’t know first-hand how hard it was to be an elf, to be a woman, but it wasn’t her job to educate him. That more than anything stoked the flames of her ire and prevented her from issuing any forgiveness on the matter.

It was impossible to hide that they were at odds with each other in such a small group. The urgency to reach Redcliffe kicked up a notch after that first night and they pressed on with fervour, and perhaps that would have been enough to placate the others, but when Caden refused to speak to Alistair at camp it became more obvious. Leliana and Morrigan were more obvious in their observations of Cadens silent treatment of her fellow Warden, with Leliana trying to draw both into conversation over dinner, while Morrigan just watched amused and intrigued. Sten gave no sign he saw anything amiss, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t just really good at shuttering his true feelings.

The only time Caden almost slipped in her campaign against Alistair came on the third night. They were working in shifts, splitting the overnight watch into threes and allowing two to get a full night’s sleep in the tent where possible. Caden had insisted on being first watch every night previous and stayed up much later than was planned in order to be so exhausted at her time to sleep that she was better equipped at sleeping without dreams, but on the third night Alistair put his foot down and with unanimous agreement from the group (admittedly only Leliana voted, the other two abstained) it was decided that Caden go to bed in the tent and try to get some decent sleep.

That was the night she saw the horde again.

Her dreams began with darkspawn. She felt through the mind of a genlock as they began the slow crawl towards Lothering. She watched the ground grow sick as they advanced, how they tore down trees in their way and trampled everything in their wake. Lothering was their destination and they would be there soon. It was exciting to the horde, the promise of fresh meat in their starving bellies after several days without feeding, the food at Ostagar now exhausted.

That was a bad enough dream, but after a while the horrifying images of the mess left at Ostagar grew more personal. She watched the memories of the genlock of the blank stares of the corpses on the battlefield and a pair of pale green eyes drew her gaze. The genlock drifted away and still her minds eye remained fixed on that face. With the unsettling time travel of dreams, she was no longer at Ostagar. She was back in Vaughans estate watching Nelaros bleed out. As she watched the pool of blood, the body blinked his eyes and Nelaros sat up. He looked down at his wound, sadly pressing a hand to the gash, which came away red and wet. He opened his mouth far wider than would have been able to do in life and moaned, long and low, the sound cutting through Caden like nothing ever had before. She tried to say something, to apologise to him, to the wailing body of the only person who had ever tried to help her, and found her words cut off. Hands wrapped around her neck and squeezed and she fought against the breathlessness and started to scream—

“Caden, Caden, wake up!” In the dark, in the tent, with her dog whining somewhere she felt hands shaking her and lashed out. Her nails found soft skin and she dug them in, scratching desperately. “Ow! Stop, it’s me.” Her wrist was enveloped in a calloused hand, gently, not roughly despite her attack and she’d managed to focus in the dark on the face before her.

“Alistair,” she spluttered. Relief washed through her as the realisation hit that she was awake and far from trapped in the horrors her mind could conjure up. It couldn’t hurt her while she was awake. “You’re not him… it’s you.”

“What?”

“Thank Andraste.” Her breathing slowed, her heart rate beginning to return to normal. She forgot she was mad at him and instead, her free hand gripped onto his forearm. Anchoring her to this place. She wasn’t in danger. She was safe.

If he was confused by her reaction to hold onto him, he didn’t show it, but when he unlatched his fingers from her wrist, she hurried to grip his hand in hers. Her grasp was firm and needy. She felt she might have fallen back into the dream if she let go.

“You were having a bad dream,” Alistair said in the dark. Stating the obvious, but not in a way that annoyed her. She nodded. “Not about the darkspawn?” She shook her head, too wrapped up in the climax of the dream to worry about the way it had started. Breathing was easier, but still it was what she focused on. She could feel the leap in Alistairs pulse at his wrist where she curled her fingers into his skin. It was steady and she matched her breathing to it. _I’m here, not there. I’m safe._ “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She said. It hadn’t meant to sound so brusque, but she wasn’t ready for full sentences.

“Who were you talking about before?” Alistair asked, ignoring her answer.

“He’s dead.” Caden said by way of a reply and it was true. Vaughan was dead and couldn’t hurt her. Nelaros was dead and she couldn’t help him.

“Alright.” Alistair said, shifting so he could sit rather than crouch. He didn’t try to take his hand away from her. “Do you want some herbs?”

“No.” Caden shook her head. “Won’t help. Won’t wake.”

“Fine.” The tent flap rustled as Rosa crawled in on her belly. Alistair reached over to scratch her ears. “Rosa came to get me. You weren’t making enough noise to wake anyone. Everyone else is still asleep.” Rosa rolled over onto her side, to let Alistair rub her belly with his free hand. “Have you had bad dreams since before the Joining?”

“Yes.”

“That’s rough. Can we talk about our fight?”

“No.” When she finally remembered that she was angry with him, she reluctantly pulled away from him, letting go of his hand. She missed the calming thrum of his pulse.

“Well, we need to.” Alistair refuted, before taking a deep breath and beginning: “We can’t go on like this. You don’t have to be my friend, but I consider you mine. I don’t want you to be miserable all the time and I’m sorry for causing that.” His words, though caring, were delivered curtly, and with practised authority.

“Get some sleep.” Caden said, climbing over Rosa and past Alistair. She wasn’t interested. “I’ll take watch now.”

He hadn’t followed her out.

It had made it harder to keep up her rage.

Now they crested the hill towards a bridge and a waterfall and Caden could see down below a town the sprawled through a valley towards a vast lake. Further on up the cliff was a towering castle. The sheer sides of the cliff that overlooked the water was a rusty red colour. It was easy to see how they had come up with the name. She wondered what the lake was called. Perhaps Big Water?

Alistair came up alongside her. He hadn’t tried to do that since the fight. “Caden? Now that we’re here, I really need to talk to you about something.”

Caden looked out over the town, at the moored boats in the docks and the square that looked remarkably empty for a mid-afternoon. It wasn’t a city of course, but it seemed so different from what she was used to watching the market in Denerim. “Is it always so quiet?”

Alistair barely glanced where she was looking and when she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, she could see his fingers fiddling with a buckle. “Caden, please. This is important.”

She turned. “Is it?” Her tone was glum and her gaze kept stealing back to the peaceful lake water, so still compared with the river that cascaded over rocks noisily beside them. “This is where you grew up right?”

“Yes, and I’d rather tell you about this, than… than have you hear it from someone else.”

A spark of _something_ lit inside her, both generous and punishing vying for her attention. So, he didn’t want her to hear about something from his past from someone other than him? This was a chance to be the bigger person, it seemed.

She quashed it. She could live with being small. “Let’s not delay our entry on that account. After all, I’m sure I’ll learn all about it in no time.” She started for the bridge that lead down into the valley or heading upwards towards the castle, ignoring the resigned hurt on Alistairs face. “Shall we go to the town or the castle first?”

As she headed for the bridge she heard Morrigan say something cutting about tasting his own medicine and Alistairs snapped “shut up Morrigan.” Shame crept over her and she stopped, turning back. Alistair was glowering now, face turned down. Maybe she should extend the hand of friendship after all. He maintained she was his friend, and perhaps he was so insistent on that because all of his other friends were dead and he had grown up an orphan. He literally didn’t have anyone else. It was cruel to deny him, safe in the knowledge that she had left behind dear friends and a loving family who she was hopeful to return to one day.

“Oh, thank goodness!” She whirled as grateful words cut through her thoughts. A young man was hurrying across the bridge towards them. “Have you come to help?”

“Help?” Now he was all business. Alistair pushed to the front, concern across his features. “What do you mean?”

“Please, follow me.”

 

*

 

“Let me get this straight.” Caden said, rubbing her eyes wearily. They had come to a halt outside the Chantry. Holy buildings were apparently all the rage for people hiding from their troubles. She supposed it made sense. “The Arl has all but vanished in his sickness, his army have been scattered and…” this was the difficult part to swallow, “the dead are attacking the town every night? Have I got all that right?”

“This is bad, this is so bad.” Alistair was muttering as the young man, Tomas, affirmed Cadens summary. “Why has no-one tried to get to the castle? I need to know how Arl Eamon is.”

“He could be dead for all we know,” Tomas bemoaned. “No-ones been able to get close—we _have_ tried. The horrible dead things come out of there!”

“Makers Breath.” Alistair looked like he might be sick with this news. Caden sighed.

“Who’s in charge here?”

Tomas pushed the Chantry doors open. “This way. I’ll take you to Bann Teagan.”

Alistairs head snapped up. “Teagan? Thank goodness.” His eyes scanned the distance to the altar at the head of the Chantry and, spying a man ahead, he burst forwards overtaking their guide. Caden caught the bemused eye of Leliana and they lengthened their strides to catch up.

“Do you know who that is?” Caden muttered to Leliana as they drew up. Alistair was speaking with the man she assumed was Bann Teagan. Leliana shrugged.

“Alistair,” the man was saying when Caden got close enough to hear. “Oh, thank the Maker you are alive. We heard that the Grey Wardens were slaughtered at Ostagar and we all feared that you were amongst them. Bad enough losing Cailan, but—”

“Teagan,” Alistair interrupted turning to the group. “I was not the only Warden to survive Ostagar.” He gestured with an open palm to Caden. “This is Warden Tabris.”

Teagan inclined his head in greeting. “Well met, Warden Tabris. I am Bann Teagan, Arl Eamons brother.”

“Oh,” understanding blossomed. This was why Alistair was so pleased that this man was around. Even with his gratitude, Alistair still looked pale and shaky. It occurred to Caden that Alistair was taking the news of Redcliffes circumstances very badly, but then she supposed this had been the place he knew of as home. A thought sparked that maybe Alistair was not just the adopted ward of Arl Eamon. Perhaps they were in fact related by blood and maybe that was what he had been trying to tell her by the waterfall. She realised she hadn’t said anything to greet Bann Teagan and the moments were stretching on. “It’s nice to meet you.” She offered. “So, what’s going on here? Does your brother still live? We need his assistance against the Blight.”

Alistair made a choking sound as Teagan raised his brows. Caden stood firm; there was no time for wasting time with pleasantries. “I certainly hope he still draws breath.” Teagan said slowly. “Did Tomas fill you in?”

“He said dead things were attacking the town every night.” Caden said, once again not quite believing what she was saying.

“It’s true.” Teagan confirmed. “It started a few nights ago. They poured from the castle after nightfall, dozens of men, or so I thought. When they drew closer the smell hit first. Their skin was rotting off their bodies as they fought.” He shook his head, eyes haunted. “I am amazed with were able to drive them back; they just kept coming no matter how gravely we wounded them. A new wave hit the next night, and the next. I am terrified we will lose everything the longer it goes on.”

“Have you called for assistance from anyone?” Caden asked.

“I have, of course.” Teagan replied. “But Teryn Loghain is too busy starting a damn civil war to help and that is apparently keeping everyone far too busy to send any aid.”

“That bastard,” Alistair growled.

“I can believe that.” Caden said. “We have just come from Lothering, where their Bann left his people to starve and face the horde of darkspawn alone. No-one is taking the Blight seriously.”

“Apart from you?” Teagan asked, archly.

“That has been my experience so far, yes.” Was Cadens short comeback. “We need Arl Eamons aid for the next battle, so we need to get him well. What ails him?”

“We don’t know.” Teagan admitted. “I haven’t seen him since he fell ill.” He sighed heavily. “I have to ask; will you please help us tonight? Help us stand off against the next attack?” His eyes searched Cadens, then shifted to Alistairs. “Please Alistair. For the sake of Eamon.”

“Of course, we’ll help.” He said. Caden turned slowly around to face him. He was waiting for her and his face was pleading. “We have to.” He said to Caden.

“Alistair is right, we must help.” Leliana asserted before Caden could speak. She lifted her narrowed eyes to the Sister; one more person to please with decisions that apparently were falling to her.

Morrigan was crossing her arms. “How pointless an exercise.” She complained. Sten said nothing.

Alistairs eyes were large and imploring. “Caden, we can’t do nothing.”

Caden opened her mouth to reply, when she caught sight of a small crowd forming at the edge of the space they were in. She was immediately drawn to the sight of clusters of children standing, watching them. There seemed to be a lot more children than there were adults, which didn’t quite mean that they had all been orphaned by the past few nights events… but neither could she believe it wasn’t true. Her heart thumped sadly. “We’ll help.”

 

*

 

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of activity.

At least it was for some of them.

Mayor Murdock had been the person to speak to, so Teagan said, therefore the Wardens had headed for where he was trying to rally together what was left of the towns militia. Alistair had left it to Caden to do the talking, but Murdock had other ideas. “I heard Tomas brought some elf to see Bann Teagan.” His unimpressed gaze swept over Caden. “That’ll be you then.”

Caden bristled. “Your powers of deduction are astonishing; must be why they made you mayor.”

His brow raised in surprise, but he didn’t call her out on her sass. “And a Grey Warden I understand?” He made a harrumph under his bushy moustache. “Didn’t think they made women Grey Wardens.”

At this point Caden half turned away, biting her tongue. She glanced at Alistair, who’s ears were red with…what, she wondered. Embarrassment on her behalf? She wanted to grab him by those flaming ears and haul him down to her level and snap: _you see what I have to deal with?_

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the weary mayor, speaking through gritted teeth. “We’re here to help. What do you need?”

Plenty, it turned out. Which was how Sten came to be running the militia through their paces, Leliana ended up helping the Sisters bandage the wounded as well as giving the archers pointers, Alistair disappeared into talks with the remaining handful of Templars in the town and even Morrigan found a use for some barrels of oil in an abandoned store room. As Caden walked through the town, searching for anyone who was interested in her help she lost her dog to the children. This at least she didn’t mind; Rosas playful side was desperately needed by these tired, scared children. Caden was happy to leave her playing by the waters side with them.

It was a far cry from being the woman who not yet a week ago had stood before a great crowd and talked to them about the coming horde and why they had to go and how much danger they were in. They’d listened to her, cared about what she had to say. For a short time, she had felt every inch a Grey Warden, a soldier commanding the attention of the people. Now she was back to being a simple little elf girl who no-one had time for.

During one circuit of the town square she heard Murdock clapping Alistair on the back and congratulating him on managing to get someone called Owen to come on board and make more weapons. A cheer rose up, smiles on the faces of the battle worn townsfolk and Alistair looked pleased. Caden could have spit in that moment and she hated herself for feeling jealous. She turned and headed further away from the square, not feeling Alistairs eyes on her retreating back.

 

*

 

The only way he was able to follow her so quietly was because she was clearly too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice him. Not that he was _trying_ to sneak, but nor was he really trying to get her attention either. If he just so happened to be stealthier than usual, well that was a coincidence. Caden headed down a narrow path that wound along the lake and then behind the buildings. There was a driftwood wall just on the outskirts of the town, and it was there that Caden headed. Alistair looked around; this was the Redcliffe Alienage. Not a place he had ever really tried to get to when he had lived in town, though he knew it was always there. Caden disappeared inside the archway that formed the entrance to the walled section of the town.

Getting closer to the archway, Alistair heard voices. They called to Caden, called her sister, greeted her with warmth though she had said she had never left her own Alienage to meet any other elves. From his vantage point he peered around the wall to see Caden speaking animatedly with the other elves, asking them how they had fared, whether they had been protected or had they had to fend for themselves? She looked more relaxed here than she had back in the main part of town, friendlier than she had looked to Alistair since their fight. He watched her with gloom in his heart. He didn’t know how to bring this ease to her. Their friendship, or what he considered to be such, was always so fraught with danger. He decided to leave her well enough alone and turned back to the village to rally more troops if there were any more to rally.

Teagan met him on his way back. He glanced back along the route Alistair had come from with a question in his eyes. Alistair followed his gaze. “Oh, I was just checking on the Alienage.” He said, unsure why he was keeping Cadens name out of his explanation. “Have they been looked after during the past weeks troubles?”

“They’ve not been helping to fight, if that’s what you mean.” Teagan said, uncharacteristically bitter. Alistair felt a frown creep over his brow.

“They surely aren’t expected to fight.” Alistair replied. “I can’t imagine they would know how to.”

“It’ll be on their doorstop soon enough whether they want to fight or not.” Teagan said. It didn’t feel like an adequate rebuttal Alistair felt, but he didn’t press the issue. Teagan tugged gently at his small beard. “Your companions are… interesting.”

Alistair couldn’t help but chuckle as they fell into step to walk back to the town. The lake beside them seemed so peaceful and quiet. “That is the truth of the matter.” He gave.

“I’m not certain which one is the most perplexing.” Teagan went on. “The Qunari is certainly imposing, but having watched him with the men it makes sense. I expect he fights like a beast. That’s someone you want beside you in a battle. The woman… Leliana?”

“That’s right.”

“You found her in a Chantry?” Teagan asked, seeking confirmation, which Alistair gave with a nod of his head. Teagan let out a breath, shaking his head in wonderment. “She’s far too beautiful to waste it on the religious life.” His laugh was low and heated Alistairs cheeks. He kept his head down as his sort-of uncle continued. “And she’s adept with that bow. There’s a history there and I’ll wager she’s no shrinking violet. You could have some fun there.” His elbow jostled Alistair’s, who said nothing. Teagan chuckled. “Well, _someone_ should.”

“It’s hardly the first thing on my mind,” Alistair refuted weakly. “I was raised in a monastery, don’t forget.”

“Oh, you were raised here,” Teagan waved away Alistairs reply. “There’s no need to get shy now.” They reached the town and Teagan stopped, appraising what he could see. “The mage is a surprise.” Alistair glanced at Teagan who was watching Morrigan cross the square, her magic staff strapped to her back. She wasn’t hiding away like she had at Lothering. Perhaps, as they were all to be fighting later, she deemed it unnecessary to pretend she didn’t exist. Perhaps she simply no longer cared. Alistair would be the last to know. “An apostate I presume? Yes, very interesting that you would have her travel with you.” Teagan was back to rubbing his bearded chin as he worked everything out for himself. “I suppose having someone with magical ability makes sense, but why draw the wrong kind of attention to yourself?”

“She and her mother saved us from Ostagar,” Alistair admitted. “It seemed churlish to refuse additional help.”

“Us?”

“Yes,” Alistair nodded, confused. “Caden and me.”

“Oh, right.” Teagan said with a frown that didn’t serve to clarify anything.

“What is it?” Alistair asked. “I told you we were both Wardens.”

“I suppose so,” Teagan said. “It’s hard to believe. I knew Duncan of course and few of your other brothers and you, but Caden doesn’t quite fit the standard. It’s strange.”

Alistair looked away, his hand at the pommel of his sword, fiddling with the leather wrapped haft. “What makes you say that?”

Teagan shrugged. “I suppose it’s her size that’s throwing me: she’s tiny. The rest of you are all…” Teagan’s words seemed to fail him as he gestured to Alistairs height and broad shoulders.

Sorrow and irritation made for a sour mixture in his throat. Teagan couldn’t have known any better, of course, but that thought didn’t make it any more palatable. Alistair turned to Bann Teagan and squared up to him. He was taller than Teagan by a few inches, which made a huge change from the last time they had conversed, when Alistair had been a young lad, covered in mud. Before the monastery, before the Wardens. “The rest of us are dead.” He said softly. He didn’t actually want to tear strips off Teagan, he merely wanted to set him right. “Of all the Wardens in all Ferelden there are only two of us alive. That’s me and that’s Caden. There’s no standard to fit into. Besides, even before Ostagar and our near total destruction Caden was a formidable fighter. Just wait, Teagan. Wait until you see her tonight.” A moments consideration and Alistair leaned closer, dropping his voice. “There is a reason why Caden was assigned to partner up with me during Ostagar. That order came from the King himself.”

Teagans eyes narrowed and widened so quickly it was almost comical. Almost. Alistair clamped a hand onto Teagans shoulder briefly, then headed away into the square.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for the chapter title is by Rascal Flatts, I Won't Let Go. Alistair is desperate to make things right with Caden, to let her know he's her friend and that she can rely on him. He also really, really wants a friend. Poor little baby angel.


	24. Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grey Wardens and their party stand with Redcliffe for a long night of battle.

_we’re out for blood, we’ll take them one by one_

 

The sun went down. The monsters rose up.

The cool night air was scorched with the sound of metal clanging, screaming and death gurgles, shouting and crying. The Chantry doors were firmly barricaded from within; there was no retreat for those outside. They would stand against the tide and either they would fall or they would hold.

Of the Wardens small party, none had had adequate rest before the battle came. That was the worry on Alistair's mind as he swung his blade through the rotting flesh of one of the undead figures before him. They wielded weapons, but disarming them hadn’t proved to make much of a difference due to their razor-sharp claw-like hands. They did not seem to understand retreating or falling back; they were both relentless and fearless and the paid no heed to any wounds they sustained. Alistair sliced through the wrist of his opponent, the hand still tightly gripping the hilt of its sword as it fell, but it merely swiped at him with its other hand, nails sharp. He brought his shield up just in time, the sound cutting through him as the nails scratched over the metal and wood. He winced and shouldered into the monster, toppling it over backwards and driving his sword into the head of what maybe once was a person. Its skull cracked like a nut and with a few spasms it went still. There was no time to rest; the onslaught continued.

An arrow whistled through the air, so close he felt the breeze on his ear. He followed its trajectory to watch it pierce the chest of a monster which was standing with both arms raised, preparing to bring down a heavy two-handed sword upon a member of the militia. The arrow staggered the monster and before it could recover a second arrow found its target through the things sunken eyeball and it fell to rise no more. Alistair glanced over his shoulder to where Leliana was crouched on a roof. She wasn’t looking back at him, not while she was nocking another arrow on her longbow and turning to loose it at the next foe. Any doubts he may have had about letting her join them vanished like smoke into the night; she was an invaluable asset after all.

Alistair spun and rushed the back of a monster who was bearing down on a wounded fellow. He braced his shield and barrelled into the thing, shoving it to the ground. “Come on, man,” Alistair yelled, taking the brief opportunity to haul the man to his feet. The mans eye was swollen shut, a cut just under his eye was bleeding a steady stream of red over his face. He nodded, then ducked as the monster got to its feet and Alistair thrust his sword forwards into its guts. Although impaled on the sword, the monster opened its mouth to hiss and roar, it’s hands swiping wildly for purchase on Alistair's body. He pulled his sword back, but the monster was not dislodged and came along with the sword. Uncomfortably close now, it dragged it’s fingers down over Alistair’s neck when he reeled backwards. Alistair's breath blew out through his gritted teeth and he grunted in pain.

Crack!

Alistair peered down; the wounded man had found a mace and brought it down upon the head of the monster, caving it in. Alistair lifted a foot and braced it against the vanquished foe, hauling his sword out. “Fall back.” He ordered of the man, who didn’t need to be told twice.

“Get down!” Alistair complied before fully understanding what he had heard; he glanced up from his crouch to see Morrigan wielding her staff with two hands, the focus gem at its top angled towards a clump of the undead. A blast of frigid air flew forth, whirling with ice crystals and snowflakes. It was terrible and beautiful and when it struck the monsters they howled in pain and tried to move away, but the cold froze them into their fleeing positions. It wouldn’t hold for long; they were already thawing as the magic ceased pouring from the staff, but it was enough. Sten charged into view, holding a borrowed sword that he spun in a wide arc, catching as many of the frozen creatures as possible. Where he hit them, Alistair could see them crack and two of them crumbled into pieces at the blow. An arrow struck the neck of another. Alistair rose again, holding his shield before him and rushed at another, throwing it to the ground where it shattered.

He felt pressure suddenly on his shoulder, the awful smell of death and rot filling his nostrils and he gagged as he turned his head to see a mouth gnawing at his armour, teeth desperately searching for purchase. Alistair grimaced and drove his elbow back into the belly of the monster. It let out a snarl of foetid breath and Alistair bellowed with frustration. Stens blade caught the moonlight as it thrust past Alistair into the body of the monster.

“Thanks, Sten,” Alistair managed, coughing, the smell lingering unpleasantly as the creature’s saliva slid over his plate. The Qunari didn’t reply, but Alistair hadn’t waited for it. He was already running to the aid of a Templar who was screaming as a trio of monsters overwhelmed him. Alistair stabbed his sword into their bodies over and over again, their filth coating his blade and splashing against his breastplate. “Why…won’t…you…just…die!” He spat with every blow.

When the three finally lay still, Alistair shoved them away to dig for the Templar, but one look at his staring, unseeing eyes revealed that he had been too late. He gripped the hilt of his sword, averting his eyes in shame. It was going on forever, with no break. A guttural snarl sounded beside him and he whirled, driving his sword up to parry the blow of the undead bearing down upon him.

An explosion rocked the nearby buildings and Alistair ducked beneath his shield instinctively. One of Leliana's shots took out his opponent as he turned to look at the cause of the boom. One of the houses on the lakeside was on fire though he could see no cause. He thought they’d removed the barrels of oil to bolster the barricades between the castle and town; had they missed something? The surface of the lake was disturbed as pieces of the house and a few of the undead fell into the water with riotous splashing. The undead nearest to the house lit up the surrounding area, suddenly wreathed in flames, but even that didn’t stop them. Alistair took a few steps backwards, avoiding the swell of heat from the house and the flaming figures rushing towards them from it. A hellish vision of screaming undead, faces appearing almost to melt from the flames and the already rotting skin, met him and for a long moment, he feared it was all too much and he might retch. His warriors' training kicked in before that could happen and he held up his shield to create enough distance to take out the monsters’ legs with slashes to its burning thighs. Sten bellowed and charged again, not swayed by the fire. Morrigan unleashed another wave of her icy spell, not allowing a single creature to get too close. Leliana shot arrow after arrow, her aim never wavering despite her increased speed. At some point they must have run out, for Alistair realised the figure dropping beside him bearing a short sword was the red-haired Sister. They stood against the undead, the sight, smell and heat not letting them be beaten. Each slash and blow and strike blended together into an exhausting dance, blood spraying, ashes scattering.

At some point, Alistair swung his sword only to realise there was no target. He was surrounded only by allies. He stopped and turned in a full circle taking it in. Corpses were littering the square, most of which had come to do battle with them from the castle. He let out a nervous breath. “We did it?”

Leliana had soot smeared across her neck, but she was nodding grimly. “I believe so.”

Alistair grinned shakily. “We did it.”

Mayor Murdock appeared at his side, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We held them off thanks to you and your team.”

Alistair sheathed his sword. His hand was shaking and it was hard to align the blade with the scabbard. He hoped it wasn’t obvious. He was long overdue asleep and now he suspected a bath was in dire need. He must have looked a sight. Casting a glance at Sten and Morrigan they were both glistening with sweat and grime. The air was filled with dancing soot from the house that was still ablaze. The militia were rallying to that cause now and Alistair quickly joined the fray, grabbing a bucket and joining a line of men from the lake to the house. He passed full buckets on and empty back as they wrestled to get the fire under control. Someone was dragging the corpses to one side, the monsters into one unceremonious pile, townsfolk who had fallen in battle were getting a more reverential treatment. Leliana was hurrying to the wounded to patch up who she could. Alistair heard her call to Morrigan to hurry to the Chantry to retrieve the healers and their air, and although Morrigan made a great show of sighing and huffing, she did make her way to the safe building.

The fire was getting under control when someone cried with alarm. Alistair peered over and saw the thatched roof of the neighbouring house catch. “Damn!” He cursed. Their efforts intensified, with Sten gripping a drinking trough and upending it upon the flames all by himself.

A whump sound met his ears and he looked over just in time to see the roof collapsed into the building. He gritted his teeth and passed the next bucket on as quickly as possible without spilling its precious contents. Morrigan was back; she was trying her icy spell on the flames and with a hiss, they started to give out due to the smothering of their heat.

“Ser, Ser!” Alistair ignored the shout, not imagining it was aimed at him, until the cry of “Grey Warden!” met his ears. He turned to see a young man with a hand pressed to a shallow gash on his chest that was oozing blood.

“Yes? What is it?” He asked, not breaking from his formation.

“Ser, I think your friend went in there.” The young man said, his breath ragged. “Your elf friend.”

Alistair's blood ran cold as he followed the mans extended, trembling finger towards the now roofless house. The flames were rising ever higher from within the shell of the house. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m sure I seen her, Ser,” he said, coughing. “Chasing one of them fiends inside. I’ve not seen her come out, Ser.”

Alistair turned around, scanning the town. It hit him like a blow to the stomach that he hadn’t seen Caden since the beginning of the battle. She had been fighting in her usual whirling dervish of blades and no quarter. Where was Rosa? The mabaris absence seemed to confirm that Caden was missing more than the lack of a visual on his Warden-Sister. “You’re sure?” He asked, thickly. All at once it was hard to breathe. He didn’t wait for the reply. “Caden!” He released the empty bucket he had been handed and bolted for the house at once. “Caden!”

 

*

 

Caden's arms were a blur as she sliced one blade into the undead, followed by the other. The first hit bit into the arm, the second cleaved it off; its jaw was hanging by a thread but it screeched a keening cry at her in response and raised its other arm. She felt the slash of needles along her gloves, the bracers keeping her from any wounds. She didn’t dare think about how filthy those nails must have been, coated in dirt and blood. She kicked the thing, yanked her swords free and with a double cleave she separated the head from the rest of the body. It crumpled to a heap on the ground where Rosa barked at it.

A quick glance showed her that her companions were all engaged in battle, their faces set in determination despite the sheer volume of the horde of the walking dead. There were so many and they just kept coming. She gulped a few breaths of air; she was already feeling tired. A sound somewhere between a screech and a groan sounded beside her and she only just managed to turn and parry as a hand axe swung down towards her. She let out a sharp cry as the force staggered her, bending her knee and almost driving her to the ground, but she held. She summoned all the strength she had to shove upwards and push the axe away. It was too strong. The sharp edge slowly descending towards her face. She had one chance. She pulled back one sword and hurriedly jabbed it at the things chest. It laid its weight against the axe, pushing her down again, but she thrust her might behind the sword at its torso and felt the blade slide between its ribs passing through the decaying skin and viscera as if it were mere paper. It pitched forward, limbs flailing, the axe dropping to the ground narrowly avoiding her foot and Caden disappeared beneath the now limp body. She clamped her mouth shut against the smell, holding her breath and a sob of despair at bay, pushing the damn thing off her. It rolled and lay still. She was slick with something she didn’t want to think about and her sword was still stuck inside the body. Caden pushed herself into a standing position and gripped the hilt, bracing her foot on its chest. The thin, putrid skin gave way and her foot disappeared into the body's ribcage. Her stomach heaved and panic took hold as she abandoned her sword to pull her foot free. Her mind was a mess of prayers to Andraste, to anyone, to save her sanity on this long night.

With her forearm pressed against her mouth, she reached with the other for her sword, now not held fast by the ribs that were in pieces inside the corpse. She gripped both swords, her breaths coming too fast for her, making her light-headed and she stumbled away from the fray, her shoulder bashing against the wall. Making herself smaller, she hugged the side of the building, wishing she was anywhere else. It was just too much. Rosa whined and pressed her nose against Caden's leg.

A creak behind her made them both jump. Caden whirled around, swords out. A flash of a small frightened face, eyes large and mouth a round O of horror and the door slammed shut. Everyone was supposed to be in the damn Chantry. Caden shoved off the wall and sidled carefully along to the door, trying not to draw attention to herself. She sheathed one shaking sword and rapped on the door with her knuckles. “Hey.” She hissed. “Hey, you in there.”

“Leave me alone!” A child. Of course.

“You should be in the Chantry.” Caden snapped through the wood, her fear driving anger to the forefront of her tone.

“Leave me alone!”

Caden gritted her teeth and turned around; she couldn’t barge her way through the door and drag them to the Chantry. She didn’t relish leaving them either.

Caden left the door, moving along the building to seek out another entry point. She was just rounding the corner when she heard the door crack open again. A guttural snarl rent the air. Caden blanched and started back, with a cry of “No!”

One of the monsters descended on the open door to the scream of the child. “Run!” Caden yelled, drawing her second sword. The door flew open inwards and the monsters tumbled inside. “Run!”

Caden skidded to the doorway; one glance inside showed the back of the child as they scrambled upstairs, the monster making a sucking sound, the breath rattling through a hole in its neck as it pursued the child.

“Hey!” She yelled, desperately trying to get its attention off the kid, back onto her. It reached the foot of the stairs and extended grasping hands upwards, but her shout gave it pause. She didn’t hesitate; she spied a table and chairs and without hesitation, she sprang onto the chair and used it to propel her off again coming down hard on the beast. They crashed into the stairs together, Caden stabbing her swords into the soft flesh with a growl. It screeched in alarm, and thrashed, but she held firm, twisting her blades until the damn thing finally expired.

She got to her feet, looking up to find the child. Seeing no sign, she turned to Rosa. “Stay, Rosa. Don’t let anything come inside.” The mabari planted herself in the doorway.

“Kid?” Caden called. “I killed it. Are you alright?”

“I’m scared.”

_Me, too._

Caden took a deep breath and sheathed her swords again. They were slick with fluid, but there was no way to clean them and she didn’t want to frighten the small person with her sharp steel. She headed upstairs.

“I’m coming up.” She said, hoping that talking would ease their fear. “I won’t hurt you. Have you been here all night? We told everyone not fighting to head to the Chantry. Is this your home? Where are your family?” She came to the top of the stairs. “My name’s Caden. What’s yours?”

The child was nowhere to be seen. Caden grimaced, but tried to keep her voice light. “You don’t have to hide from me. I just want to see if you’re alright.”

A noise made her freeze. She turned in the direction of the sound as quietly as possible. _Make another noise._

There it was. A large bedroom, with a bed and a dresser. The sound came from the bed, though it was empty. Caden slowly stepped over the threshold and then took to her knees, peering under the wooden bed. That pale face with the big eyes peered back.

“Hello,” Caden said, smiling automatically, but making no move to get any closer. “This is a good hiding spot. Can I fit as well?” The boy shook his head. “That’s alright. I’m a Grey Warden so it wouldn’t really befit me to hide during a battle.” _Even if I might want to_. “That’s why I stopped the bad guy who was in your house, because my job is to help people. I got him; I saved you.” A flash of Nelaros that she pushed away. _Not now_. “Do you want to come out?”

He shook his head again. “Alright. What’s your name?” Caden kept her voice light and breezy even as she could hear the battle raging outside.

“Bevin.” Came the small reply.

“Nice to meet you, Bevin.” Caden smiled. “What were you doing in here?”

For a moment he said nothing, but then he met her gaze. “I wanted to fight. My parents are dead, but I didn’t want those things to get my sister. I thought I could join the fighting, but then… I got scared.”

“It’s really scary out there,” Caden sympathised. “I got pretty scared myself.”

“But you were fighting.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t get scared,” Caden said. “I told you I was a Grey Warden. It’s my duty to fight so other people don’t have to. Your duty is to stay safe. And you did that, even though you didn’t go to the Chantry.” She gave him a look of mock sternness and thankfully he returned a smile.

Caden started to say something else, but she heard some new cries rise from outside. Rosa was barking downstairs. She got up and headed to the window in time to see the house beside them catch fire. The bottom dropped out of her stomach. “Hey, Bevin, the bad guys are all gone but I need you to come out now, please.” She could hear the strain in her voice as she struggled to remain calm and not upset him. She turned, keeping an eye on the blaze as it flared up. _Shit, shit, shit_. “Let’s go, Bevin.”

He started to scramble out of the bed. “Are they really gone?”

The flames rose quickly, eating through the thatch and wood like it was nothing. Caden turned to Bevin, reached for him to get him to stand. He was a head shorter than her. “They are, but we should get you back to your—”

A popping sound hit her ears and Caden glanced over to see a beam fall from the house. “Come on.”

As they made to leave the room a roar of heat swept up the side of the house. Caden shrank away from the joining wall and looked up in horror as the sound spread above them. The roof was wooden beams above and then the tightly packed thatch that had gone up so fast on the house beside them. They were in serious danger. The thoughts struck her all at once. She gripped Bevins hand. “Hurry.”

To his credit, the boy went with her when she tugged and they darted across the floor, heading for the stairs. A crack above made Caden look up to see the flames engulf the roof. The burning thatch started to drop and Caden’s heart sank as she realised it was going to come down. They just had to reach the stairs.

The roof fell.

Caden didn’t think; she wrapped her arm around the boy, tucking him close, trying to shield him with her slightly taller body. Heat swept by her and she flinched away. Peeking through her lids, her eyes immediately starting to stream with the smoke and heat she saw to her dismay that the stairs were obscured by burning thatch. Time for a new plan.

Caden turned around, coughing and reaching down to raise Bevins hand to cover his mouth and nose as she scanned for a new way out. Another horribly loud crack spurred her onwards, darting into a room at the back of the house as the first beam fell from the roof to land on the bed that Bevin had chosen for a safe place. Caden pulled Bevin along, her breath coming short and ragged. The house was quickly filling with thick smoke, but there was a single window in her eye line. Bevin stumbled along with her and she only released him when she reached the frame. She pulled a sword free and holding it around the blade she pounded the pommel against the edges of the window, throwing her weight behind it. A welcome shattering sounded and with it came a burst of cold night air. She ran the sword along the inside frame, bashing out every last sliver of glass shards and quickly resheathing the sword. She peered out and down to find the darkness of water.

“Bevin can you swim?” She barked, turning to pull the boy to the window.

“Of course,” he said, through a cough. He followed her gaze and then look at her with more resolve than she was feeling. “You want me to jump.”

“Be careful.” She ordered as the boy gripped the frame. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful the house was built along the edge of the lake; if it was deep enough it would make a better surface than the ground from this vantage point and Bevin could make his way around to safety. Then all she would have to do is learn to swim right then and there. Her heart shuddered at the thought.

“Be safe,” Caden said as Bevin threw himself from the window. She watched his small body fall and disappear into the water with a splash. Her heart caught as she waited for him to emerge. There he was, treading water. He caught her eye and began to swim around to the shore.

He made it look so easy. Caden glanced back at the fire edging closer. Death by fire, death by drowning? It was the story of her life to choose between two terrible options. Still, she had not died yet; maybe she was a cat after all. What was one more life, she would still have maybe four left. As the rest of the roof began to crash down aflame, Caden climbed through the window and leapt into the night.

 

*

 

“Caden!” Alistair’s voice was hoarse with yelling, breathing in the heat and ashes of the house. He couldn’t get closer as he tried to peer over the flames. Rosa came bounding over, barking all the while, her ears flat on her head. “Where is she, girl?”

Leliana appeared beside him. “What is the matter?” She asked, her voice clipped.

“Someone said they saw Caden go inside,” Alistair explained in one breath. “I can’t see her.” His mind went to the icy spell that had frozen the undead and helped with the first fire. “Morrigan?” He turned, desperately searching for the witch. She raised her head coolly meeting his gaze. “We need you.”

“What for?” She asked as she came closer, her usual languid pace. He wanted to throttle her.

“Caden’s in there, I need you to do something about these flames.”

“She is not.” Morrigan nodded over his shoulder. “She is over there.”

Alistair’s throat clenched and he spun around, eyes roaming the surroundings. A young woman who was helping with the wounded shouted and darted towards two figures who were walking slowly up from the lakeshore. She bundled a boy up in a hug and when she crouched to speak to him, Alistair realised the second figure was Caden. He didn’t know whether to laugh or shout at her, but his body was already moving, feet carrying him at speed towards her. Her hair was falling out of its usual tight knot and she was soaking wet, coughing. “Caden!”

Rosa bolted for her mistress, stumpy tail wagging so fast it was a blur. Caden touched the dogs head and looked up at him as the wind picked up and he saw her shiver. “Did we win?”

“What happened to you?” He asked instead of answering.

“Fire.” She said simply, gesturing to the buildings. “Jumped in the lake.”

“With that boy?” Alistair asked, none of this making sense to him.

“He was hiding.” She explained. “Needed saving.”

Now Alistair did laugh, relief breaking through the long nights fear and exhaustion. “And you had to save him.”

“Yes.” Caden brought her arms around her as the shivering intensified. Her teeth clattered when she spoke next. “He was alone and scared.”

Alistair shook his head, wanting to take her task about giving him such a fright, but she looked frozen and miserable with that. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.” He stifled a yawn. “And maybe some sleep.”

“That would be nice.”

They fell in step as they walked towards the inn where they had been promised rooms. Alistair glanced at her as they walked; her shaking wasn’t stopping. He hesitated before asking. “Look, I know how you feel about being touched, but you’re going to catch your death. Can I put my arm around you just this once?”

Caden seemed to shrink away as he asked, but when he looked, she turned her gaze up towards him. “Thank you.” She said in a tiny voice. He wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for merely asking or granting permission for the action so he carefully reached out with his left arm and when she didn’t strike out or bolt, he let it curve around her, his hand resting on her upper arm. She let herself be tucked under his arm and he could immediately feel just how cold that water must have been.

“I thought you were inside that house,” Alistair said softly as they walked, his nervousness producing words. “I didn’t know how to get inside; there was burning wood in the doorway.”

“Get inside?” Caden asked, confused. “Why did you want to go in a burning building?”

“To get you out,” he said, bemused. Surely that was obvious. “I thought you might need rescuing.” He chuckled. “Stupid, right?”

He felt Caden's nod against his arm. “I did need rescuing.” She admitted. “Bevin had to help me in the lake. I can’t swim.”

Alistair shook his head. “That was pretty brave to jump when you knew it would be deep.”

“It was that or burn to death,” Caden replied simply. “I had no choice.”

They walked in silence for a while until they reached the tavern door. Alistair took his damp arm back, marvelling at how long she had tolerated him for. “I’m glad you’re alright.” He said. Caden offered a tired half-smile. “Let’s find your room so you can get out of those wet things.”

Caden stumbled over the threshold, seeking out Bella the tavern maid. Alistair hung back, not wanting to crowd her after subjecting her to such close contact. Leliana materialised at his side with a look on her face. “What?” He asked with a frown.

“Very gentlemanly of you.” Came the reply. “Very gallant.”

“She was cold,” Alistair replied.

“Indeed,” Leliana smirked over her shoulder as she headed towards Caden to help her to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Monsters which I used for the chapter title is by Ruelle. 
> 
> I went with straight-up reanimated corpses for my interpretation of the Redcliffe attackers. I love reading other peoples creative ideas for them, but I'm a sucker for good zombie so I stuck with what I know and love!


	25. Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next night at Redcliffe goes very differently.

_Would I be that monster, scare them all away_   


Caden bit into the apple, the juice running over her chin and she ran her wrist across her mouth to wipe it away. Her feet crunched along the stones as she descended the slight hill on which the tavern rested. Rosa was at her heels and the sun was up. Before her she could see the cleared-out town square. There was no sign of the dead; the only reminder of the previous night’s battle was the two burned outbuildings and the scorch marks on a third. Caden peered at the shell of a home that she had been in last night and shuddered. That was enough fire for one lifetime, she hoped.

Her night had been uneventful, for once. Curled up in a bed with Rosa in a room shared with Leliana, she had been unable to sleep for the longest time despite the crawling fingers of exhaustion in her head. When she had finally fallen into unconsciousness, the sleep that claimed her was black and deep with no space for dreaming. Leliana had risen earlier and snuck out of the room without waking Caden, which was why she woke alone bar the hound. She didn’t mind that so much; she had been shattered after a days travel to a town that needed defending before resting.

Caden finished her apple as she came into the square and offered the core to Rosa, who accepted with a slobbery chomp. Caden wiped her hand on her breeches and looked around for anyone she might have recognised.

The Chantry doors were wide open so when the search for familiarity failed her, Caden meandered over towards it. It was cool inside, with plenty of folk moving around, or sitting quietly. Not as many as they had found the day before, she noted.

As she walked slowly towards the back, a delighted cry caught her ear and she turned. A woman was hurrying towards her and at her side was: “Bevin!” Caden smiled down at him. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Oh, Ser,” the woman said effusively. “I am as well. When I discovered my brother was missing after the fighting had begun, I feared the worst.” She turned and gripped Bevin tight to her side. “I’m Kaitlyn, by the way.”

“Well met, Kaitlyn.” Caden nodded. “Don’t call me Ser, though; I’m not a knight. Caden is just fine.”

“We’re so grateful for what you did for us,” Kaitlyn said. “I want to give you something.” She turned and went to an area where various belongings were stored. While she rooted around, Bevin smiled at Caden.

“Thanks for helping me in the water,” Caden said.

“I’ve never known anyone who couldn’t swim,” Bevin said somewhat in awe. “How come you can’t?”

Caden shrugged. “I’ve never learned. The most water I’d ever been in was a bathtub. I’d look a bit silly trying to swim in one of those.” Bevin giggled.

“I’m glad you’re smaller than most grown-ups,” Bevin remarked through his laughter. “Or else it would have been harder. How old are you? I’m ten.”

“Nineteen,” Caden replied.

“That’s the same as my sister,” Bevin remarked. “But I don’t think I could have helped her swim. She’s too big.”

“I’m glad you could help me. I guess I’d better figure out how to swim through in case you aren’t around next time.” Caden said. Bevin’s chest puffed out a little at her words and she was glad that he seemed to be focusing on what he was able to do, not how terrified he had been. Better that he remember his achievement, rather than his almost fatal mistake.

Kaitlyn reappeared holding a long item wrapped in leather and bound with cord. “This is my grandfathers’ sword. I want you to have it.”

Caden took the package without thinking. It was heavier than she had expected, but she wasn’t about to let it stagger her in front of a boy with a large case of hero-worship. “Thank you,” Caden said. “Are you sure you don’t want it…?”

“No.” Kaitlyn shook her head. “I can’t wield it. But you could or one of your companions and you’re trying to fight for all Ferelden, aren’t you? You need it more than me.”

“How about a loan?” Caden suggested. “I’ll see that it’s returned to you after we’re done. Maybe one day Bevin could use it?”

Bevin coloured a little, but grinned.

“Alright,” Kaitlyn smiled. “Thank you.”

Caden nodded in farewell and headed on up the Chantry with her new sword.

She didn’t have to look very far before she found Alistair, along with Sten, Leliana, Bann Teagan, Mayor Murdock and Ser Perth. She padded over to the group and waited by Alistair's side until she was noticed. “Sten? Would you like a big sword?” were her first words.

Stens eyebrow gave the tiniest twitch, which she took as assent, so she dumped the bundle into his arms and watched him unwrap it and hold the sword up. It was a particularly long hilt, with plenty of room for both hands, which was good as the sword was the largest she had ever seen. “Do you like it?”

“It is an admirable tool,” Sten said, his eyes roaming the steel, which gleamed. “My thanks.”

“It’s on loan,” Caden explained. “So, don’t get too attached.”

“Very well.”

The others had watched this exchange in silence. Caden looked to Alistair rather than anyone else. “How many did we lose?”

It was Teagan who spoke first. “Four good men. That’s four men too many, but I admit that previous nights have seen numbers in double figures, so you all have my thanks.” This was directed to Alistair. Mayor Murdock harrumphed.

“Credit where credit’s due,” he said gruffly. “Alistair here deserves the lions share of it.” His gaze slid to Caden beside him. “Some of your group worked harder than others.”

Caden gritted her teeth. Next to her, Rosa stood up from her seated position. “We all worked hard.”

“ _You_ ended up in the lake and only emerged after the battle was won.” Murdock fired back.

Alistair shifted from one foot to the other. “Caden was—”

“Forget it, Alistair.” Caden snapped. “Some people are too set in their own prejudice to see reason.”

Murdock's moustache bristled. “Do better tonight and maybe I’ll change my mind.” He nodded to Alistair, then headed out. Teagan, a more polite sort, made a gesture of farewell to the assembled group before leaving with Ser Perth.

Caden let out an angry breath. “Some people just don’t want to be wrong.” She looked up at Alistair. “Whatever you were going to say—”

“Duel them.” Alistair cut in. Caden's mouth opened in surprise. “Seriously, spar with them. Out there. Pretend you’re back at Ostagar and show them they’re wrong about you.”

“I shouldn’t have to prove myself,” Caden argued weakly.

“I know,” Alistair said, his voice fervent. “It’s not fair. They shouldn’t treat you any differently as they treat me, just because you’re an elf or a woman—”

“Am I not both?” Caden asked the air as Alistair was mid-diatribe.

“—but they are stupid and we’ve got some time to kill so why not spend it honing your craft and also kicking their arses?” Alistair shrugged. “What have you got to lose?”

“I would like to see this,” Leliana said with a fierce smile. “Come on Caden.”

“As would I.” Sten put in. “I am still doubtful of your status as either a woman or a Warden. I’d like to see which it is.”

Caden felt heat in her cheeks, but she nodded mutely and they headed out of the Chantry. Her feet dragged heavily along the ground following the others. It was alright for them; even Sten was accepted as a fighter, despite not being human. His size must have been the deciding factor, they couldn’t have missed him tearing up the battlefield last night. Leliana was a woman, but had succeeded where Caden had failed, forcing them to see past her sex. Caden huffed quietly as they walked in the light. Her problem was that she was an elf. Too small to assume she could even lift a sword and her brethren in the Alienage had locked themselves up tightly, leaving her as the only elf on the field of battle. Caden didn’t blame them for that; they were unschooled in fighting arts, that much she had ascertained the day before. She’d spent her afternoon training them in the basics of how to dispatch enemies if they breached the walls of the Alienage, but essentially had told them to stay put and out of sight.

And that was exactly what she’d ended up doing. Staying out of sight, through necessity. She’d fought and killed with the rest, but when Bevin needed her she’d helped. Invisibly to some, but she wouldn’t change that. Bevin would have died in the fire without her and perhaps he was just one boy, but that one boy was worth saving. She felt her features harden as they drew up to the training grounds. Screw all of them for making her feel inadequate.

Then it occurred to her that she didn’t have to care what they thought and her spirit lifted.

“Shall we pair off and spar?” Alistair was saying loudly. He was no actor, Caden observed. She wondered how easy he would be to beat at cards and smirked. “Murdock, one of your lads can go against Caden, right?”

She flushed. This was embarrassing.

Murdock laughed. “Yeah, sure. Who wants to fight the elf, boys?” Some of them looked confused, others snorted. Caden gritted her teeth.

To his credit, Bann Teagan looked uncomfortable. _Good_ , thought Caden. “Now, I’m sure she’s an excellent sword, er, woman.” He said. “The Grey Wardens have a reputation for only recruiting the best after all.”

One of the members of the militia stepped up. He was a slight young man with curly brown hair and he wasn’t laughing. “I’m game if you are?” He asked Caden, looking her in the eye. It warmed her to see at least one of them being polite, but she had already decided that she wouldn’t play their stupid games.

“No thanks,” Caden replied. Alistairspun to her in confusion. Caden looked at him. “Alistair thinks I should show off for you all, so you can see that I am a fighter. My other companions agree. I don’t see the point.” She turned back to the curly-haired young man. “I appreciate your willingness to fight someone these others think of as beneath you all.” Her gaze slid across to Teagan and Murdock. “I’m not a performer in some travelling troupe and I’m not going to dance for your entertainment. I’m a Grey Warden, one of the last in Ferelden and I have more important things to do with my time. I stood in this square last night and I fought the undead with you all. I saved a young boy from a fiery death.” She gave half a shrug with one shoulder. “I didn’t see you all fight personally, but if you say you were there, then you were there. I believe you.” Teagan cast his eyes downwards and Caden remembered in that moment that he had been holed up in the Chantry, a failsafe if that door was breached. “I’m sorry four men died. I wish we could have saved them all. I wish we could have been here earlier to help with the previous nights. Alistair and I have a lot of work to do and as I said, there’s only the two of us to do it all. But we shall stand here again tonight and fight the horde with you all.” She stepped a mite closer to Murdock specifically, who was stood with his arms crossed, staring her down. She straightened up as tall as she could. “Believe me I’m not doing it for your thanks or your approval. I’m doing it because I can help. Because it’s the right thing to do.”

As she turned to walk away, Caden caught sight of her companions’ expressions; Alistair didn’t look upset that she had scuppered his plan. He was nodding, smiling. Leliana winked and Sten… well, Sten was hard to read, but she could have sworn he gave her an almost imperceptible head tilt of approval. Rosa bounded to her side and Caden left the square.

 

*

 

The sun went down, just as it had the night before. Caden stood on the hill by the windmill, the winding path that lead to the castle from which the monsters had come. She gripped the hilts of her swords and wet her lips. The moon was rising. Where were they?

She heard the clanking of metal plates as Alistair approached, torch in hand. “They’re late.”

She barked nervous laughter. “They are. Terribly rude of them.”

“Shocking, really.” He agreed. “I’ve always said if you can’t rely on vicious undead monsters to be on time, you can’t rely on anyone.”

“I’ve never heard you say that.”

“No?” Alistair tilted his head in thought. “That must be one of the thoughts that stays inside my mind.”

Caden couldn’t help the snort that came out and she turned to him. “I have a hard time believing _any_ of your thoughts stay in your head.”

“Ha, well, some of them do, I assure you,” Alistair said, reaching up to scratch his ear. He glanced back up the hill and Caden followed his gaze. “Do you suppose they aren’t coming?”

Caden hesitated. “I don’t know. Could it be that we might get lucky for once?”

“I hardly dare imagine.”

Caden sighed. Sheathing her swords she started up the path. Another clank of armour and Alistair darted around her. “Where are you going?” He asked, walking sideways as she continued her stomp uphill.

“Up there,” she nodded. “I’m going to see what’s happening.”

“Or,” Alistair offered, “we could not. What if it’s a trap? What if they’re trying to fight us on their home turf? What if there are, I don’t know, nets?”

“Nets?”

“You know, snares, traps.”

“You already said traps.”

“Caden, stop a moment, please.” She complied, turning with a hand on her hip, waiting to hear a compelling reason to turn back. Alistair took a breath. “I want to go to the castle as much as anyone, you must know that.” She saw his eyes cloud over. “I’m desperate to know if we can even help Eamon. But we can’t just charge up there.” He turned around, back to the hill and fixed the force of his gaze on Caden. “We have to play it safe.”

“I hear you,” Caden said. Then, struck by a moment of compassion spurred on by his concern for her the night before and by the sadness in his eyes when he spoke of Eamon, she reached over and patted his arm. It was awkward, her touch refusing to linger, her gloved hand only briefly pressing against his bracers, but it was genuine. “Why don’t you hold this line and I’ll scout up ahead? I promise I won’t engage; I’ll just check it out.”

He looked pained. “I should go with—”

“They’ll hear you coming from down here,” Caden said, not unkindly. “I can be quiet. Or loud; I’ll yell if I get attacked, alright?”

Alistair didn’t look pleased, but he drew in a deep breath and stepped aside.

Caden nodded and headed up. There was little chance of getting lost; the path wound it’s way back and forth up the hill, zig-zagging up the terrain. It was worn smooth and it was wide, Caden assumed so that wagons could ascend to the castle as Alistair had told her it was the only way in or out. Redcliffe was a defensible castle, perched high over the lake as it was, unless of course the threat was coming from inside. One side of the road was lined with trees that provided some cover for Caden to creep along, but in truth, she was less concerned about making noise, more about traps. Alistair's suggestion had left a worm of doubt niggling at her, mostly that she hadn’t considered that possibility herself. She would have to be careful. Not only for her safety, but equally she would never live it down if he had to come and rescue her from a pit. Or a net. Caden bit back a short, sharp laugh at the thought. Nets. What was he thinking? An image of her suspended from a snare, upside down trapped by the ankle, played out and she shuddered. An even worse embarrassment to be sure.

Caden's footsteps were soft as she climbed up the road. She couldn’t see Alistair now unless she left her covering shadow and peered over the edge of the road, which she didn’t relish. The shape of the castle loomed out of the darkness ahead. No lamps were lit, no hearth fires burning and brightening the windows. It was cold and dark. She lowered her body, hoping to draw yet more shade around her, glad of the hood that obscured her hair and face.

The portcullis was down, preventing entry into the courtyard. Caden hesitated at the end of the treeline, before making a break for the wall, spinning to press her back up against it and waiting. Listening.

Nothing.

She peered around the wide archway and looked between the iron lattice. There was a second portcullis just after the first, creating a double barrier, though this one was up. The courtyard was dark, discerning anything was difficult. She held her breath and kept still, the only movement from her eyes scanning the vicinity, trying to make out any sense of movement.

Nothing.

Caden slowly let out her breath and moved back against the wall. She looked up, eyes sliding up the portcullis and she thought. She could feasibly scale the thing; the open squares of the interlocking metal were more than enough for her hands and feet to climb, but to what end? The portcullis disappeared into a stone arch that jutted out overhead, too steep and too smooth to get any purchase. She sighed. The castle was closed up tight, quiet to the rest of the world and not something she could scale herself. There was nothing else to do but return to the town.

Alistair was waiting. He caught sight of her and bounced on the balls of his feet, almost comically. He held the torch aloft and Caden was glad for the small patch of light to chase away the night. “What did you find?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” Alistair asked. “No monsters?”

“No monsters,” Caden confirmed. “No-one at all.”

“Oh.” Alistair looked up the cliff road towards the castle. “What do we do now then?”

Caden nodded back down past the windmill. “We let them know and we plan our next move.” She started walking and Alistair caught up with her, holding the torch so they could both see their footing. “We can station two men up here to keep an eye out just in case.”

“Good thinking,” Alistair said. “You do the talking; you give orders better than I do.”

Caden shook her head, somewhat in despair. “I’m sure I don’t, but fine. They might not listen to me though.”

“They will,” Alistair said with confidence. “When you stand up and talk people listen, haven’t you noticed? Lothering was a prime example, but earlier you made an impact as well. I saw it, I heard them afterwards. I think you shamed Teagan and even Murdock took note.” He glanced at her as they approached the bridge over the waterfall towards town. “You weren’t… cross with me for the idea, were you? I just thought that if you showed them just how good you are at fighting, they’d realised how much they underestimated you.”

Caden stopped and he mirrored her, his face wary. She felt a jab to the gut at the sight; knowing she had given herself this reputation for being abrasive and difficult and Alistair didn’t actually deserve her ire.

The waterfall was loud and the spray was cold in the night air, but she leaned against the railing overlooking the river that wound to the lake.

“I’m not mad. I appreciate what you said, about how it wasn’t fair. I know you aren’t cruel to elves, but I don’t think you truly understand what it’s like to be one of us. That said,” she added, watching him as she spoke, “I think you got it a little bit when you tried to help. That really does mean a lot.” Alistair came over and leaned beside her. Caden looked down at her interlocking fingers, biting her lip. “I’m sorry I said we couldn’t be friends.” She said quietly, cringing. “I’m sorry I yelled at you… and swore at you. And thank you for coming to my aid that night with my dreams despite my behaviour.”

“Forget about it,” Alistair said. “I told you that you were my friend and that’s true. There’s no pressure for you to…”

“You are my friend, Alistair.” For a moment Caden thought the noise of the waterfall had swallowed her words as he didn’t speak, but when she stole a glance at him he smiled back, looking pleased. She’d never seen anyone so thrilled by such a little thing. “It’s nothing special. I’m not a great friend.”

“Fortunately, I have low standards.” Alistair quipped, eliciting a snort of laughter from Caden, dispelling some of the awkwardness.

“Well, good.” She said.

They stood together for a while, in companionable silence overlooking the town, in no hurry to move on. Caden wondered what Alistair was thinking about as they stood. Her mind was dwelling on those dreams and exactly what kind of friend she was. She thought of Shianni and their terrible escape from Vaughan's estate in Denerim. She’d been a good friend then, saved her cousin from violation and harm, though it had cost Nelaros his life and Caden her freedom. A tightening over her chest jolted her as she stood on the bridge and she clutched at the railing, knuckles whitening, the gold band standing out against her pale skin. If she were honestly Alistair's friend she would tell him the truth about her marital status and that night when she’d killed those men. The reason why they had had to die. Her mouth was dry, but she turned around:

“Alistair, there’s something—”

“About my parents—”

Alistair spoke at the same time as she did and both broke off hearing the other. Faces drawn they faced each other, the torch fire bouncing light and shadow.

Caden looked up at him, the words shrivelling on her tongue. “You go ahead.” She prompted.

“No, no, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He countered.

“Honestly, it’s fine.” She insisted. “What is it?”

Alistair seemed to be struggling to find the words now, his mouth slightly open, his lip quivering. “I… er…”

The moment seemed dashed. Caden had no idea where the bravery had come from to speak of her demons to Alistair and neither, it seemed, did he. She cut through his struggle. “We really should go and speak to the town.”

Relief visibly washed over Alistair as he nodded. “Yes, we really should.”

They shared a tentative smile and headed towards the market.

 

*

 

The news was greeted with relief, albeit tinged with suspicion by Murdock and Ser Perth, though Caden found she didn’t much mind this reaction. Two men, a knight and the curly-haired man from earlier that day, were dispatched to keep the first watch over the route into the town. The rest turned to the Chantry. It was Bann Teagan who acted most thrilled at the reprieve of battle, with nary a dark thought of traps or that the monsters were biding their time. Instead, he called forth barrels of mead and wine and demanded music and food. A celebration sparked up before either Caden or Alistair could fathom what was happening. It took quite some doing to take him aside to discuss a plan for the morning and he was already well into his cups by that time.

The trio sat aside from the sudden party in an otherwise unoccupied pew, each with a drink in hand. Alistair had sipped at his, Caden’s was still full. Teagan insisted on clinking their goblets before he would let them talk. It was far too tiresome.

“Teagan,” Caden said, shooting the name through with authority. Alistair raised his brow over her familiarity, using the name rather than title, or combination thereof. Caden narrowed her eyes and stared Teagan down as he sniggered into his wine. “This is serious.”

“I know, I know,” he gave, leaning back, legs spread, tilting his head up. “I’m just so damned relieved not to have to fight tonight.”

That he had not fought at all during the past nights remained unsaid.

“We have some respite, yes,” Caden said. “But that is time best put to use planning our next move. We need to get into the castle.”

“We need to find Eamon,” Alistair said. “Not to mention everyone else inside.”

Teagans gaze darkened and he stared into his cup. “You’re right. Of course. Isolde and Connor are still within the castle, as well the household.”

Caden glanced at Alistair, who’s face had pinched. “Who are they? Eamons family?”

“Yes,” Alistair nodded. “His wife and son. Connor would be, what? Ten now?”

Teagan hiccoughed. “Yes. Ironic really. He’s trapped in the castle at the very same age as you were when Isolde—”

“Teagan.” Alistair's tone was sharp and Teagan hiccoughed again, downing his drink.

Caden kept very still as the air thickened with tension. Neither man seemed ready to speak again so she tried to regain control of the conversation. “I hadn’t realised there was a child in the castle.”

Alistair still looked bothered by Teagans words, but she saw the ghost of a smile flit across his face. “Well, I figured you’d go charging in there if you knew. You have a habit of saving kids.”

Caden smiled wanly back. Alistair finished his drink and stood. “Another?”

“I’m still good with mine,” Caden said, gesturing with the full cup, but Teagan thrust his goblet to Alistair who sighed and took it, heading to refill them. Caden took a small taste of her wine. It tasted sour and made her face scrunch up. Nothing like the watered-down stuff she was used to at what passed for a fancy event in the Alienage. She set her cup on the pew beside her.

Teagan was watching her, Caden realised with a start. As she had his attention she pressed on with the plan. “The outer portcullis was down; how else could we get inside?”

“You know,” Teagan drawled, moving his arm to rest along the back of the pew. “You are a very surprising woman.” Caden felt her mouth clamp shut, the itching sensation of his eyes prickling her skin. “I underestimated you before.” Somehow this didn’t sound like the validation she had hoped for. “You are a very pretty young lady.”

Caden felt her heart sink. She scrabbled for plans, for the castle, for anything to say to divert this horrible course, but her stomach was clenching in discomfort and any efforts fizzled out before she could speak them. Teagans hand was casually draped beside her and she felt herself draw together where she sat. His finger touched her shoulder and she suppressed a shudder.

“Just look at your face,” Teagan said, his eyes roving over her, his words running ever so slightly together, the alcohol loosening his tongue. “Exquisite. And that hair; like sunshine. You should let it down.” His finger brushed along her arm and she was glad to be wearing her armour still. It was a step up from any other such occasion when cotton or wool had been her only choice of clothing to keep hands out. “What a slender neck you have.”

_Such a pretty neck such a pretty neck such a pretty neck._

Caden's hand raised to bat away the fingers creeping closer, her heart pounding, adrenaline roaring, but she kept everything tightly locked in place. Only her arm moved, only her left hand carefully blocked his advances. It was all very polite and restrained. “Please don’t.” She said in a murmur.

Teagan clasped her wrist in a delicate move that didn’t feel like she was being held tight. Caden jerked her head around to see what he was doing to find him holding her hand to the light, the glow of lanterns bouncing off the gold band on her finger. “You’re married?”

Of all the armour she wore, Caden had forgotten this piece. Gratitude for wearing it washed over her. “I am.” She lied quietly.

“My apologies.” Teagan nodded, releasing her hand. “He doesn’t mind?”

“Mind?”

“You doing all this. The Grey Warden life?” Teagan clarified.

Caden's mouth was dry and she felt for her wine as she grasped for words. “Er… no. He’s very supportive of my duty to Ferelden.” She bluffed, tipping her cup and taking a gulp and wincing.

“Look who finally got tired of being the children’s guardian.” Caden jumped at the sound of Alistair approaching with Rosa hot on his heels. She forgot about the tart wine and gladly accepted Rosa jumping up at her and the hot dog breath on her face. Anything was preferable to the prickling feeling under her flushed skin. She had the unerring sensation of having been caught in a compromising position, even though she’d done nothing.

“Hello girl,” Caden ruffled her ears. “I’m going to step outside with her for a bit. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Alright,” Alistair said, handing Teagan his refreshed goblet. “I’ll find you later to go over the plans?”

“Of course.” Caden nodded and headed outside with her dog to find space to breathe freely again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Quiet is by MILCK.
> 
> I realise I've given Teagan and Murdock slight short shrift, but it's all drawn from in-game comments; Murdocks initial disparaging thoughts about an elf or woman Warden and Teagans flirting and the conversation about being married if you play a city elf. I've just amplified this for the purposes of my story.


	26. Fear Not This Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onwards into Redcliffe castle and the dangers that lie within...

_Dawn is just a heartbeat away._

 

“I think this is possibly the trappiest trap that every trapped.” Caden snorted in the dim light at Alistair's assessment. He came up beside her and despite the worry that was clear in his hazel eyes, he offered a pale grin.

“I know.” Caden agreed. “But what are you going to do?”

“Yeah.”

Onwards they walked.

When a noblewoman had appeared the previous morning desperate to find Bann Teagan, it had been a shock to say the least. Caden had been ready to nab the woman and press her for everything she knew about the goings-on in the castle, but one look at Alistair's face had halted her. It had turned out that this was Arlessa Isolde Guerrin, the Orlesian born woman who had married Eamon and born him a son. She hadn’t designed to speak to Caden, nor had she really been interested in speaking with Alistair, but they were present as she persuaded Teagan to go back to the castle with her. A decision that had only been accepted by Caden and Alistair after Teagan had advised them of the secret passageway under the windmill, which they were now using to access the castle.

It stung, Caden felt, to know that there was a way into the castle all along and that they could have used it the night before instead of indulging Teagans urge to party. He clearly hadn’t gotten the message that everything the Wardens was doing was rather time sensitive. It rankled. As did the sight of the Arlessa and her insistence on mistrusting Caden on sight, to say nothing of the way she had looked down her nose at Alistair.

The long and winding underground path bore on and Caden glanced at Alistair as they walked. “You know, I’ve been rather expecting you to want to tell me more about all the things you kept cutting Teagan off from saying.”

Alistair’s eye twitched, but when he looked at her it was with an easy smile. Perhaps he did have some skills in hiding his feelings after all. “Caught that did you?”

“That and the Arlessas rudeness towards you,” Caden replied. “I can understand her lack of manners with me, a ‘lowly elf’, but I was surprised by her disrespect for you. What did you do to her?”

Alistair chuckled low and quiet. “I existed.” He shrugged. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

Caden waited patiently until Alistair sighed and continued. “She thought I was Eamons bastard, I suppose. Didn’t buy that Eamon just felt responsible for me after his servant died having me.”

“It… does sound a little shifty,” Caden admitted.

“Eamon is a good man.” Alistair asserted. “A fair man. I know it probably sounds strange given that nobles can be so… disappointing.”

In her mind, Caden reeled off the noblemen she had come into contact with. Vaughan, Urien, Cailan, Loghain, Teagan. “That’s one word for it.” She said darkly.

“But Eamon isn’t like that.” Alistair went on. “He’s a decent man. That’s why I know he’d want to help us, why he’d oppose Loghain. He raised me because it was the right thing to do. There was nobody else to do it.”

For a moment the emotion trapped in Alistair's voice was so all encompassing that the small tunnel seemed thick with it and Caden almost, _almost_ , reached over to take his hand. “Alistair,” she heard herself mumble.

“Anyway, Eamon took me in as a babe and I grew up in the castle for a bit until he brought Isolde home.” Alistair continued, oblivious to Caden's quiet empathy. “That was when it was decided my sleeping quarters would be better served in the stables. At least the horses were kinder than the Arlessa. And smelled better, or so I told myself as a little boy.” He let out another small laugh at this. “Rather childish I know.”

“You _were_ a child.” Caden pointed out gently.

“True.” Alistair shifted the strap holding his shield his back as he ducked to avoid a low patch of ceiling. Caden managed to walk past it unimpeded. Behind them a short way back, Leliana and Morrigan were also forced to stoop and then a grumble as Sten had to duck even lower. For once, Caden felt rather smugly superior.

“So the Arlessa hated you on sight because she thought you were her husband’s illegitimate son and had you live in the stables.” Caden summarised. “What were the winters like?”

Alistair glanced at her in surprise. “Cold, but the horses were well kept; Redcliffe is known for it’s breeding stock so the stables are probably nicer than most and the horses looked after. I guess it could have been worse.”

“It could have been a lot better, too.” Caden rebuked. “I know you must care for Eamon a lot, but if he were really, truly a good man, he ought to have taken better care of you.”

The surprise was back, even more baldly obvious. “I suppose so, but he did the best he could.” Alistair put forth weakly. Caden was firm.

“No.” She said hotly. “Best would have been keeping you in the castle, in a bed, with a fireplace, with meals at a dinner table. For Andrastes sake, _I_ had a room and a bed.”

“I was probably fed more frequently,” Alistair smiled, attempting a small joke. “So, who really had it worse?”

“I’m not joking around,” Caden replied, not unkindly, but it vanished his smile. “What they did to you was cruel. Isolde for treating an orphan child that way and Eamon for backing her up.” They walked on in silence for a while. “They have a son, yes?”

“Connor,” Alistair replied.

“Teagan said he’s the same age as you were when…?” She trailed off, hoping he would tell her what he’d stopped Teagan from saying the night before. Alistair didn’t reply at first, until they reached a door that was most likely their entrance to the castle.

Alistair stopped, one hand on the doorknob and sighed softly. “He’s ten. The same age I was when I was sent away to live at the monastery.” He opened the door and stepped inside. Caden bristled on Alistair's behalf, but the conversation was forced to end there as the trap was sprung and the undead attacked.

 

*

 

“Over here!” Caden swept her sword through some relatively clean straw in a heap beside the twice expired bodies and looked over to the shout. A hand was waving through the bars of a cell where the voice had come from.

“Careful,” Alistair said, rather unnecessarily Caden thought as she made her way over to the cell. Morrigan approached it from the other side, the other three and Rosa hanging back.

Inside the cell was a young man who looked to be about Caden's age. He was gaunt and pale, and getting closer to him brought a smell of days old sweat, tinged with excrement from a covered bucket in the far corner. Caden forced her face into a neutral expression; he might have been a prisoner, but she didn’t need to be rude. “Who are you?” She asked.

“My name’s Jowan,” he replied.

“Why are you in this cell?” the next question came from Alistair, striding forward. Caden could clearly see the moment the smell hit his nose as Alistair visibly recoiled. Jowan didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you for killing those things,” Jowan said, ignoring the question. “I’ve been keeping them away from my door, but I’m so tired and running low on energy.” He left out a weary cough. “Do you have any food or water?”

Leliana immediately fished out some bread and offered it to him, along with her water skin. Alistair and Caden shared a look as Jowan drank and shoved the food into his mouth. When he was finished, Alistair repeated his question and Jowan winced.

“The Arlessa threw me in here,” Jowan said hurriedly. “She blames me for the troubles in the castle, but it wasn’t my fault, I swear.”

“Slow down,” Caden said. “How are you to blame?”

“I’m not!” Jowan exclaimed. His hands gripped the bars so tightly his knuckles strained and turned white. “I’m not!”

Caden glanced at Morrigan, the ally who was closest to the cell with her. The witch was watching Jowan with narrow, shrewd eyes. It hardly pointed towards his guilt; Morrigan observed most people in that way. Caden turned and started to glance at Alistair, but his eyes went wide and he started forward as she looked at him. A second later a hand was gripping her wrist and Caden whirled. Jowan had his forearm thrust through the bars and those white knuckles were gripping her arm. Caden’s stomach dropped and she reached for her sword, but then another hand entered the fray; Morrigan had Jowan's arm gripped under her nails.

“Remove it, or lose it.” She uttered coolly. Magic flared over her fingers and ice crystals formed beneath her palms. Jowan howled in sudden pain and immediately released Caden, who pulled her hand back, cradling it to her chest, placing distance between her and the cell.

“Caden?” Alistair's murmur was right beside her without crowding her. Caden gave a curt nod and let go of her arm, determined to look strong. It didn’t matter that her insides were roiling at the unexpected grasp, she just had to _look_ fine. She rolled her shoulders as Morrigan let go of Jowan, a curiosity tingeing her eyes.

“How odd.” She mused softly.

“What is it?” Caden asked the witch, glad for a distraction. Morrigan smirked as she glanced at Jowan with fresh interest.

“He tried to fight me,” Morrigan said. “He’s a mage, but he spoke the truth; he is practically out of energy so all he could manage was a tiny spark. Hardly worth worrying about. But the most interesting thing is what he tried to do.”

“Which was?” Caden asked. All of this had transpired beneath her hand, before her eyes and she had missed it all.

“Blood magic,” Morrigan said with a curling smile exposing her teeth. Alistair made a noise and Caden turned to him.

“Blood magic,” he spat, his tone dripping in scorn. “No wonder he was thrown in here. No good ever comes from blood magic.”

Caden chewed on her lip for a moment before sighing and asking: “what’s blood magic?”

Three people spoke at once; Jowan protesting in favour of his preferred magic, Morrigan calmly asserting her surprise that someone like him had it in him and Alistair shouting that it was possibly the worst thing in all of Thedas. Caden held up a hand to them all.

“Alright, so it’s a bad thing?” Caden asked, her gaze finding Alistair's.

“You’re damn right it’s a bad thing,” Alistair said with a derisive snort.

Caden turned back to Jowan in the cell, a thought occurring for the first time. “Aren’t mages supposed to live in the Circle?” Caden asked.

Morrigan sneered a response, crossing her arms. “They most certainly are not, though the Chantry would have us all locked away like cattle.”

“That’s right,” Jowan nodded, looking with renewed desperation to Morrigan. “Are you a free mage?”

“An apostate,” Alistair corrected, garnering a new filthy look from Morrigan.

Caden’s head hurt. She raised her hand to her temples and rubbed her fingers in small circles over the throbbing ache. “Semantics aside,” she went on slowly, “what are you even doing here? Do nobles have mages in their households normally?”

At this both Alistair and Morrigan could agreed; they spoke almost in unison: “no.”

“So then why are you here?” Caden's head felt thick and full of straw; she just wasn’t getting why this man was in a cell in a castle when he probably ought to have been at the Circle of Magi.

Jowan sighed and took a moment before replying. Alistair stepped a little closer, eager to hear the response. “Arlessa Isolde hired me. Well, she found me. I had destroyed my phylactery before I escaped the Circle, but her Templars found me anyway and she had a need of a mage so she let me stay.” Caden's head was reeling from this news, locking away the term phylactery to ask about later. “Her son needed a tutor. In magic. So…”

“Wait, Connor?” Alistair held up a hand in shock to pause the story. “Connor Guerrin, a mage?”

Jowan nodded. “Yes. I’ve been teaching him to control his powers.”

Something didn’t sit quite right with Caden. She glanced at Leliana who was taking in all the information with an outwardly passive face, but her eyes were sharp and fixed on Jowan. “Leliana, what are you thinking?”

The Sister cocked her head, not removing her gaze from the mage in the cell. “I’m surprised at the convenience of the situation. The Arlessa wanted a mage to educate her son in secret, I presume, in order to keep him from being sent away to the Circle. And then a free mage happens along just at that moment? Very lucky really for the Arlessa.”

“You think there’s more to it than good fortune?” Caden pressed and Leliana nodded. Caden turned back to Jowan. “Well?”

Jowan shifted in the cell. “Fine, well, I knew the Arlessa was looking for a mage. That’s why I came here.” He sighed heavily. “I was contacted by a gentleman to show up here and demonstrate my skills discreetly so that the Arlessa would see hiring me as a good opportunity. Bring me into the castle. So that I could…” his voice sank to a mumble into his chest as his head dropped down.

“Sorry, what?” Caden asked, stepping closer. Jowan glanced up.

“I was hired to… poison the Arl.” He said quietly. “So… I did.”

“What?” Alistair’s voice was booming, echoing off the surrounding walls. Caden almost leapt out of her skin at the sudden yell, her eyes darting to the stairs as if he was bringing the whole castle running. When nobody appeared, she turned back to him.

“Alistair, hush,” she said, trying to sound as thoughtful under the circumstances as she was able. “We’re still undercover, don’t forget.”

The look on his face suggested that Alistair was apoplectic with rage, that if one more word were to leave Jowan's mouth he might just explode into a shower of incandescent fury. Mercifully though, both men fell silent. Caden took a breath and focused again on the mage-cum-assassin. “Is the Arl dead?”

“Not as far as I know,” Jowan admitted. “He lingers on in sleep so deep that none can wake him.”

“You are not a very good poisoner.” Leliana helpfully pointed out, crossing her arms in front of her. “Were you give a draught to slip him or did you whip up the concoction yourself?”

“The first one,” Jowan said in a small voice. “My hands were shaking so hard when I poured the vial into his evening wine that I admit I don’t believe I administered the full dose.”

“Very lucky for the Arl.” Leliana assessed. “Were there any particular things you recall about the contents of the vial, colours or scents? Or do you still have the vial?”

“If anyone has it it’s the Arlessa,” Jowan said after a moment. “My room was searched after the Arl went down and then I hid the vial under my bed. Chances are they checked my room again after flinging me down here. As for the draught, it was a small vial, and it didn’t look like anything. Just like water.”

Caden glanced at Leliana, whose brow was furrowed as she ducked her head to catch her chin in her hand and thought. “Any ideas?” She wasn’t really sure why she was asking; prior to this moment she had no idea Leliana would have known anything about poisons at all, yet she was turning into the most valuable asset in this moment.

“Could have been water with a powdered element to it.” Leliana mused. “Or there are a few poisons that are made as odourless and clear as possible so as to avoid detection.”

Morrigan harrumphed. “Not in my experience.” She said. “Some men will take anything from a woman giving them attention without ever glancing at what they’re imbibing, even if it were lurid purple and giving off an odour of death.”

Alistair’s eyes were as round as the moon. “Have I gone completely mad, or does everyone here have experience poisoning people? Sten, how about you?” He asked, gesturing wildly.

“Poison is an effective tool for the Ben-Hassrath,” Sten said bluntly. “Not for the Beresaad.”

That seemed an uncooperative answer, though Caden felt that from context she could assume it meant that Sten wasn’t a poisoner himself. “I’ve never poisoned anyone,” Caden said to Alistair with a helpless shrug. “So that’s three of us. Half of everyone in the room. So…” She trailed off as Alistair started to laugh.

“Great, so in a room of six people we have three confirmed experts in poison,” Alistair said. “Join the Grey Wardens, see the world, meet fantastic new people!”

Caden offered a weak smile in response. Leliana had withdrawn a little into herself, though whether that was because it seemed as though Alistair was having a laugh at her expense or whether she was afraid she’d revealed too much, Caden didn’t know. Morrigan seemed wholly unashamed of the title of poison expert that Alistair had bestowed on her.

“Right, well,” Caden said, trying to get back on track. “We don’t know what the poison was, but there’s a chance for Eamon? If you didn’t get the full dose into him and he’s alive, then we could restore him, right?”

“I don’t see why not.” Leliana nodded. “Alive means there is a chance.”

“That’s good for him.” Alistair asserted. “And that’s a chance for you, too, blood mage.” He rounded on the cell, eyes dark with anger. “If he dies, though, that’ll be your head for certain. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jowan said in a strangled voice.

“Who was the person who wanted you to poison the Arl?” Caden asked, her eyes narrowing as she followed a thought that had sparked.

“I didn’t learn his name,” Jowan admitted. “But someone referred to him as a Teyrn.”

“Loghain?” Caden asked, turning to look at Alistair.

“There are only two Teyrns in Ferelden.” Alistair nodded. “Bryce Cousland was one and he was recently killed.”

“Which leaves only Loghain.” Caden finished. “Damn him.”

“Look,” Jowan said, jumping on a lifeline for himself. “I have no loyalty to this Loghain and I clearly failed my task, which I am so very glad about. Let me out of this cage and maybe there’s a chance I can help the rest of the castle residents. At the very least,” here he turned fully to Caden, imploring her with obvious fear across his face, “don’t let me die down here.”

Caden took one look at him, sighed, and reached for her lockpicks. Alistair started forward. “Caden, seriously?”

“What if those things come back?” Caden asked. “Could you live with yourself if someone died when you could have kept them from harm?”

“A blood mage and the man who poisoned my one-time guardian?” Alistair asked. “I think I could sleep at night.”

“Who has a problem with blood magic, I wonder?” Morrigan mused slyly. “The Grey Warden or the Templar?”

“Shut up Morrigan!”

“He’s not a Templar.” Caden pointed out for what felt like the hundredth time. To Alistair she added: “Come on, he said himself he was low on energy and we can keep an eye on him. Morrigan you can tell when he’s about to do blood magic, right?”

“Wrong,” Morrigan said archly. “I could tell when I had skin contact with him, but ordinarily no. I couldn’t predict when he was about to attack us with blood magic.”

“Oh.” Caden chewed on her lip as she thought and then shrugged. “Well, we’ll just have to watch him.” And she bent to begin work on the lock. Leliana moved past Alistair to supervise and assist.

“Caden, I’m really not comfortable with this.” Her fellow Warden said grimly. “Who’s going to watch him?”

“Couldn’t you?” Caden asked, not looking away from the lock as one tumbler moved into the right place. “I know you aren’t a Templar, but did you learn anything from them that could help?”

Silence fell for a short while as Caden worked. Finally, Alistair spoke again.

“I could cleanse the area of spells,” Alistair admitted. “That might mess with Morrigans casting though.”

“Then it is not an option,” Morrigan snapped. “I refuse to walk into a dragon’s den without the means to defend myself.”

“She’s right,” Caden said, springing the lock. It was a much easier lock than the one on Sten's cage had been. “We can’t leave Morrigan helpless.”

“I am never helpless,” Morrigan hissed, rather contradicting her point though Caden didn’t like to say so. She stood and swung the door to the cell open.

“Caden, wait,” Alistair said hurriedly. Jowan sensibly stayed put, though he looked as though he were itching to bolt. “Think about this. Do you really want to let him out?”

“Alistair, we’re friends,” Caden said, fixing her gaze fully on her Warden-Brother. “Yes?”

“Yes…?”

“So, trust me.” She turned to Jowan and jerked her head. He left the cell keeping a wide space between him and Alistair and came to stand behind Caden.

“I do trust you,” Alistair muttered. “It’s him I don’t.”

“Thank you,” Jowan murmured. Caden smiled, then reached for the rope at her side. He watched her unfurl the short length, then tie it around her belt. She held up the other end and waited while realisation dawned and with a groan, he raised his arms and let Caden wind the rope around his waist and secure it with a tight knot. “Thank you.” He said again, sarcasm slipping over the words.

“No problem.” Caden smiled. She turned to the others. “Shall we head on?”

 

*

 

There was a small debate regarding who would lead them on. If they wanted to go for stealth and scouting it would have to be Leliana, but she was wielding a bow and so was not ideally suited to close combat that might have arisen should someone spring another trap. Caden was at a disadvantage with her anchor in the form of Jowan holding her back and Alistair wanted to keep an eye on the pair. He didn’t trust the mage one bit, no matter what Caden had said, but he was the one who knew the castle best and so was suited to walk ahead if they weren’t worrying about staying quiet. In the end, they let Rosa lead the way, her keen senses primed to listen and smell for danger. Behind her strode Sten, holding his greatsword, ready to take out anyone who dared try to mess with the dog. It turned out that Sten had something of an affinity with Rosa, the two seeming to understand one another.

Alistair and Caden, along with Jowan, took up the middle section with the long-range caster and archer following behind. It worked well enough in these narrow corridors towards the courtyard.

As they came out into the night once again and found themselves under the moonlit sky, Alistair felt rather than saw Caden make a break for the portcullis. It was up on their side, but down on the other. Jowan trailed unhappily behind the Warden as she searched for a lever.

“Caden,” Alistair called softly across the gloom. She turned back, nudging the mage aside so she could lock eyes with Alistair. “Maybe we should leave that for now.” She frowned. “Might be noisy. We don’t want to alert anyone to our presence yet.”

“Don’t you think they already know?” Leliana asked him. He hadn’t realised she was right beside him and when he turned he saw she was staring up at the castle. He followed her gaze. A red glow bloomed inside, lighting up the windows and arrowslits, filling him with dread.

Behind him Caden found the chains to raise the portcullis and slowly, slowly turned the wheel that would raise the heavy wooden lattice. Alistair hesitated only a moment before going to aid her. Together they raised the gate to the top and secured it fast. Caden called for Rosa, who bounded over.

“Rosa, go down to the village and get the soldiers to follow you back, alright?” She patted her mabaris head. Alistair nodded.

“I guess we’re abandoning all attempts at stealth now.” He remarked.

Caden looked grim. “They know we’re here. Better call for reinforcements now.”

Rosa set off down the road back to the village.

Alistair and Caden headed back to the centre of the courtyard. “Right, let’s get inside,” Alistair said. “We might as well take the front entrance. Rest assured we’ve got back up on the way, so if things get dicey just go on the defensive and wait it out.”

“This is a bad idea,” Jowan said, unhappily. “Please, let me go down to the village after your dog and help rally the troops.”

“Sorry,” Caden said, not sounding very sorry. “You’re with us now.”

“At least…” Jowan turned mournful eyes on Morrigan. “do you have any lyrium? I need to recharge before going in there.”

“What I have is enough for me,” Morrigan replied. “You are going to have to hope the Wardens are intent on keeping you alive and trust in their skills.”

Jowan did not look thrilled.

“Ready?” Alistair asked, looking only at Caden. She set her mouth into a thin line and nodded once.

But before they could approach the castle, the doors swung slowly open, creaking as if they hadn’t been opened in decades. Out strode a young boy, no more than ten with yellow hair and unnatural purple eyes. Flanking him were soldiers all wreathed in purple mist around their heads, the forlorn Arlessa and Bann Teagan. Alistair glanced at Teagan and saw to his dismay the same purple energy around his glassy eyes.

“Oh no, oh fuck it,” Jowan was mithering, edging further behind Caden as if for protection and crouching as best he could to let the smaller woman shield him from view. Alistair stepped forward.

“Connor Guerrin.” His voice carried across the night. “We’re here to help you.”

“Silence!” The voice coming from the boy was booming. It hardly sounded like a human voice at all, something was distorting his voice from the inside. “Who are you to trespass into my home, into my castle and kill all my playthings? Have you come to join me? Or do you intend to die and join me after I raise your pathetic broken bodies?”

“Are those the only options?” Alistair barked with nervous laughter as Caden posed the question to the boy.

Not-Connor focused his intense purple gaze onto Caden. “Mother, who is that?”

The Arlessa sniffed. “My sweet, that is an elf. You know about elves, yes? Like our servants?”

Alistair watched Caden's brows furrow in irritation. “I am Warden Tabris, of the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden. We have come to restore normalcy to this town. What exactly is the situation here?”

“Demon,” Morrigan hissed and Jowan nodded. “A demon has possessed this child in order to walk in Thedas. We must kill it.”

“The demon or the boy?” Caden asked darkly. Alistair swallowed.

“Kill the body and the possession ends,” Morrigan said. “Without a host, the demon will be expelled into its usual form and we can kill it.”

“We’re not killing the boy,” Alistair said hurriedly and Caden nodded.

“Not if we can help it.” She agreed.

“SILENCE!” The voice of the demon coursed through the night air again. “You will not touch this body unless you wish to be killed very, very slowly. We have an agreement, the boy and I. I keep his father alive and he gave me his body.”

“Foolish child,” Morrigan said, but Alistair was surprised to hear sorrow in her tone, rather than derision.

“Well then?” Not-Connor asked. “Step forward and join me!”

Alistair drew his sword and shield. “We will not negotiate with a demon.” He heard the sound of his party members drawing their own weapons. Morrigan readied her staff, energy crackling all around her in anticipation.

“Very well.” Not-Connor smiled, the edges of his mouth reaching too high, his teeth bared in a sharp grin. “Then you shall perish.”

The soldiers barrelled down the steps towards the Wardens and their party. Alistair leapt forward to meet them as magic lightning sped through the air, locking one in place as his muscles when rigid. Alistair parried a blow with his shield and swung his sword through the air, cracking down on the helmet of the knight fighting him. “Try not to kill them if you can help it,” he called through blows. “They are all possessed.”

“As you say,” Leliana called from her position further back. She had sensibly put plenty of space between her and them in order to shoot her arrows and as they flew towards their targets, Alistair just hoped that she was aiming for non-lethal hits.

Sten barged past swing his sword in a wide arc. There was nothing about him that suggested a merciful approach, but when he used his sword to knock the legs out from under his opponent, Alistair saw him grip the sword in one hand and use his heavy fist to knock out the man on the ground. He lay still, but Alistair had to assume he was still breathing.

Morrigan muttered some spell and when Alistair ducked under a sword swing to spin and bash the knight with his shield, he was met with the horrifying sight of the witch of the wilds suddenly merging her form from woman to giant spider. He bit back a yelp and was momentarily too stunned to move as he watched her utilise the spiders' web to wreath a knight in tight bonds.

A blow to his back staggered him and brought him to his senses, only just throwing up his shield to catch the sword that was aiming for his skull. He let out a yell as he swung his sword in a short arc, utilising the flat edge to push his combatant away so he could move his shield to bash him to the ground. A blow struck him at his back and his breath flew from his throat, toppling him to his knee. Winded, he knew he couldn’t linger; something struck him from behind again as he struggled to his feet and he pitched forward, managing at the last minute to drop to his shoulder in an attempt to roll away from the sword that struck the ground where he had been standing. The possessed guard gazed down at him unseeing and raised his sword again. Alistair bent his knee, breath still wheezing from his lungs with difficulty, and thrust the heel of his boot at the guards front. He couldn’t hold back the wince as his foot connected with the guard, who sank to the ground in pain.

The dire spider scuttled past him and he shuddered at the sight, but staggered to his feet. The guards that barrelled down the steps toward him were suddenly enveloped in web. Alistair had to give a grudging nod of thanks to the many eyes of Morrigan that alighted on him and if a spider could have smirked, he would have sworn that one was doing so.

“Watch out!” the call came from Leliana. Alistair spun, his heart lurching as a spirit rose in the middle of the courtyard. A chill blew through the onlookers as the skeletal, armoured being floated ominously a few inches above the ground, it’s eerily long arms sharpening to wicked nails. It wore an ethereal helmet, but red eyes glowed from within and it opened it’s mouth to howl. Alistair swallowed and gripped the pommel of his sword, letting out a yell in response, aiming to draw it’s focus from the others to get around behind it.

It worked.

As if a chain was suddenly wound around him, Alistair felt his body yanked across the space, feet dragging up the dirt, almost dropping his weapons. His battle cry pitched higher in fear and alarm as he flew through the air to come to a stop before the revenant and then it wrapped its long fingers around his neck and his scream cut off. Everything went cold and then everything started to go grey.

 

*

 

Caden shuddered in the deathly cold air that surrounded them when the spirit appeared. “What is that?” She barked, backing up and bringing her leashed mage with her.

“Bad, it’s so bad,” Jowan almost sobbed in response. Caden was turning to glare at him and demand more information, but then she heard Alistair's cry and she froze at the sight of him being dragged by magic.

“Alistair!” She cried out in fright, whirling on Jowan. “Come on!” She started for her Warden-Brother, but Jowan planted his feet. “Come on!”

“Wait, listen, you can’t fight that thing with those,” Jowan sputtered, clutching the rope that connected them tightly. Caden glared at him.

“I can’t leave Alistair.” His scream died and Caden spun back towards the sight of the renevant choking her friend. “Maker, no!”

“Listen, Caden, I can kill that thing.” Jowan tugged the rope, hands worrying the leash, face pale. “I can use blood magic and I can destroy it, I swear.”

Caden didn’t hesitate. “What do you need?”

Jowan’s hands were shaking. “Just a little blood from you.”

Caden dropped one of her swords at once, holding up her left arm and ripping off the leather bracer on her forearm. It fell to the ground with the sword and Caden sliced her remaining sword through the fabric of her shirt into the skin and flesh beneath. The blade bit sharply and blood bloomed at once, pain shooting up her arm. “Do it,” Caden ordered through gritted teeth.

Jowan pressed a hand towards her and Caden felt a sudden shift in the stream of blood that was pouring from her arm. As if her blood was dust instead of liquid, it was captured by a wind stream that pulled it up towards Jowan, tearing through the gash in her skin, tugging at the edges. His eyes widened as the force of her life essence hit him and the last thing Caden saw before she sank into blackness was Jowan’s panic as he aimed his magic towards the revenant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is by Jeremy Soule, Fear Not This Night.
> 
> So I missed a week. I had a chapter all written and ready to go, and then just forgot! I blame Promptober; it's drawn my focus like a newborn baby fic so I've neglected my firstborn. My children would probably call that art imitating life, but I digress! 
> 
> Blood magic. I love the concept of blood magic and I like to tweak it to fit how I believe it works. I've read up about the canon for blood magic, but have found it somewhat lacking, so have pieced it together with classes from DnD because, well, that's what I do in life in general! I hope it's ok and not too jarring if it reads wrong.


	27. Sirens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caden awakes to find things have changed and must face some tough decisions.
> 
> CW: this chapter contains temptation of an adult by a demon possessing a child. It's a little creepy and uncomfortable.

_Darlin’ it’s your choice not to fall in_

 

A voice told her she was awake before she realised it herself. Caden opened her eyes to see a the ceiling of a dim room and, with a glance to the right, Morrigan sitting beside her. For a moment she felt a swooping sensation inside her as she tried to reconcile where she was; the memory of waking in the witches hut jolted her into confusion. Her mind scrambled to unravel the twisted memories of the time since Ostagar and for a few moments, she was convinced she was back at the hut, the battle only a few nights past. Blinking, she pushed herself up, the warm blanket sliding down her frame to pool in her lap, hands sinking against the soft mattress. Not the hut.

“Morrigan?” Caden asked, looking around. She had a hundred questions, yet the name of the witch seemed to sum them all up in one. Morrigan leaned forward, her demeanour unhurried.

“Are you well?”

“I don’t know,” Caden answered honestly. “Am I?”

“You are a foolish girl,” Morrigan replied, a spark of irritation shooting the words into Caden’s chest and she flinched, dragging her gaze to meet the witch’s amber eyes. On the surface, she seemed, as ever cool and unfazed by anything, but in those eyes, Caden could see clouds of anger and something else. “That mage was entirely untrustworthy and leashing yourself to him almost cost you your life.”

Caden froze. “Wait… what?” It was coming back to her in fuzzy images. The courtyard. A possessed child. Guards under the thrall of the demon.

“He used your blood to empower him to destroy the spectre.”

Chill air surrounding the ghostly figure. Alistair gasping for breath. Jowan promising he could end it.

“He achieved it, but not without great cost to you.” Morrigan summarised neatly.

“Is Alistair alright?” Caden asked, her heart lurching as she remembered the sight of her Warden-Brother dragged by magical means across the yard into the grip of the spectre. It had picked him up and held him like a rag doll.

“He was unscathed,” Morrigan replied.

Caden nodded and swung her legs around, the cool air prickling her bare skin as she pulled the blanket off. Too focused on Alistair’s absence to worry about her attire, she made to stand, but the moment she tried to straighten up she wobbled, grasping the bed to keep her upright. Morrigan was unmoved by this display, leaning back against her chair with a bemused expression. Caden’s vision bowed and swam for some moments that dragged on far too long, before she felt safe enough to stand. Her stomach felt hollow. “How long was I asleep for?”

“Two days,” Morrigan stated.

Caden peered towards the window where the final rays of sunshine were vanishing. “Where’s Alistair?”

“Gone.”

Caden spun back to Morrigan, the world reeling on its own. “Gone? Where?”

“This would be so much simpler if you asked the right questions in the correct order.”

“It would be easier if you just told me, Morrigan,” Caden bit back, receiving an arched eyebrow and an amused smirk in response. Caden took in a deep breath and then another for good measure when it chased the grey spots from her eyes. “Morrigan. I apologise for snapping.” Morrigan’s smirk grew wider. “Please would you tell me where Alistair is?”

“You can read, can’t you?” Morrigan asked, reaching over to the nightstand and sliding a folded piece of parchment into view. Caden grabbed it quickly.

“Well enough.” She muttered, unfolding the parchment one swift motion. She scanned the page, as if the answer would leap out at her. It was written in neat script, quite unlike the handwriting she would have expected from Alistair. The only untidy sections were sentences that had been crossed out, the ink scratched through hasty words. Caden sat back on the bed and read it properly from the start.

 

* * *

 

  _Caden,_

_What in the Makers name were you thinking? Jowan says you all but leapt at the chance to slice up your own arm, ~~you could have died, again!~~  where is your sense of self-preservation? _

_I’ve ordered Jowan to be thrown back in his cell, it’s no better than he deserves. He shouldn’t have pushed you into assisting with blood magic especially as you don’t even know what it is or what it does. ~~I should have explained, found the time to tell you.~~  You can’t keep doing this.  ~~Your life~~  You have to be more careful. Even if someone else is in peril, that doesn’t mean you can just throw yourself headfirst into danger. _

_Maybe it’s best that you’re asleep. ~~I hope you’re just asleep.~~ I’d never get my words out if I was talking to you face to face and you’d probably have punched me by now.  ~~I’m not sure I’m making any sense.~~_

_The demon is quiet. Whatever Jowan did scared it, or Connor, I’m not sure how that works. The only way to get the demon out without killing Connor is with magic. Lots of mages, lots of lyrium, which we don’t have, but the Circle does. I’ve taken the treaty for the mages with me, along with Rosa, Leliana and Sten. We’re traveling across Lake Calenhad, should only take us a week there and back if we don’t stop for chit-chat and I don’t intend to._

_Morrigan is keeping an eye on the demon. Apparently she reckons she can keep it placated through magical means._

_Please don’t let her hurt Connor, I owe Eamon that much._

_You just rest and recover. I’ve got this one._

_~~You~~  _

_Alistair_

* * *

 

 

The majority of the letter was easy enough to read, though one or two words gave her pause. “What does this say?” She asked Morrigan, pointing to the words near the top of the paper.

Morrigan glanced at it. “Self-preservation.” she read. “He means—” 

 “I know what it means,” Caden hurried. “I just couldn’t read it.” She gazed down at the words, her fingers tightening over the parchment, making it crinkle. “I guess he was really angry.”

“With the mage,” Morrigan explained. “He was furious. Charging about, raging at him, flinging the boy in the cell. It was quite amusing.”

Caden peered up, confused. “I meant with me. He left me here, like a naughty child.”

Morrigan looked at her for a long while, her eyes inscrutable. “It is a wonder to me how you ended up with that ring on your finger, knowing so little of men.” With that, she stood. “You should eat something. There are precious few servants remaining, but I shall send someone up with food. I must go and check on the boy.”

“How is he?” Caden asked as Morrigan made to leave. She paused at the doorway.

“The boy sleeps and that ensures the demon is kept dormant,” Morrigan explained. “It is tiresome keeping him in this enchanted sleep, but tis better than allowing the creature to thrive. Your Templar had better return as he says, for I am not limitless in my skills. Unless of course, you would be amenable to destroying the body and beating the demon?” Caden shook her head. “No,” Morrigan sighed. “I didn’t think you would.”

 

*

 

Jowan looked miserable. True to Morrigans words, he was back where they had found him a few days ago, which to Caden still only felt like a few hours. She was wholly fed up with her trick of taking enough damage to knock her into next week. Maybe Alistair had a point about her knack of throwing herself directly into harm’s way.

The mages head was bowed where he sat on his backside, legs bent at the knee so he could rest his arms across them. He didn’t look up as she approached until she spoke, whereafter he all but leapt at the bars. “Hello, Jowan.”

“Warden, thank the Maker,” he spluttered at once. His eyes scanned her body, now dressed, though missing her armour that was still upstairs. “I half thought I had broken you beyond repair.”

Caden stepped over to the bars, hating that they were speaking with those iron rods between them. She couldn’t remember pain or fear or anything she would have expected from the events in the courtyard, none of what Alistair had evidently experienced looking on. Jowan wasn’t like the nobles, soldiers or bandits she’d met since leaving the Alienage. He seemed closer to her age and much closer to her status. It was possible that elves and mages were not so dissimilar given how both were corralled away, out of sight, but overseen.

Then there was the fact that Jowan looked malnourished and skinny and Caden was positive that she could take him in a fight provided he wasn’t able to shoot off any spells. That didn’t hurt.

“Are you alright?” Caden asked. “Alistair didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Jowan half shrugged, though she caught his wince when he moved his shoulder. “He was scared I suppose.”

“What exactly happened? Was that normal for blood magic?”

Jowans eyes widened as he sucked in his breath. “No, that was definitely not normal.” He rubbed pale hands over his head, mussing his greasy hair. “When I use blood magic, I can tap into the life force of the giver and take a small portion to supplement my magic, bypassing the need for lyrium. With you… the power just poured out towards me. I could barely hold it, never mind direct it, but Maker when I wielded it at the revenant spirit it just…” he pressed his palms together then pushed them apart, fingers spread. Jowan shook his head. “I’ve never seen the like. But the problem was that your life essence wouldn’t cease. You were like an unstoppered bottle, pouring out and I couldn’t get the cork back in. Not until you went down and then I thought I’d taken so much that you’d…”

Caden could see it in her minds eye. Looking at it like that made it easier to understand Alistairs worry.

“Your friend, he threw me to the ground.” Jowan recollected. “I don’t blame him; it must have looked frightening, but by that point you had dropped and that cut off the flow of magic anyway. He yelled a lot. He only stopped shouting when he picked you up and took you into the castle. Of course, Connor had run back in by then and the Arlessa behind him.”

Caden’s stomach gave a little flip at his words. These were important details that she had come in for; the recollection of what had occurred with the demon and how they had slain the spirit, but all she could focus on was the part where her Warden-Brother carried her unconscious body into the castle. Quite why the thought of it was so hard to shift now that the image was planted in her mind was beyond her, but she found the thought didn’t repulse her as once it might have.

 

*

 

The night passed without a problem. Connor remained in his sleep, with Caden watching over him while Morrigan took some rest. Caden could see the strain this repeated casting was having on the witch of the wilds, though she hid it well. Caden watched Connor’s chest rise and fall and her thoughts drifted to Alistair.

She could see the sense in him not waiting for her wake up before heading to the Circle of Magi. Connor and Redcliffe needed help that they alone could not provide and getting the mages on side for their army was the whole reason for going to the Circle in the first place. It made sense to get going sharpish, but that didn’t mean she felt comfortable with being left behind. She was fully recovered from her unfortunate brush with blood magic and she could have gone with them. It didn’t feel good being left behind.

As the moonlight began to bleed into golden dawn, the Arlessa walked in. Caden didn’t look up, but could see the woman stepping into the room from the corner of her eye. Connor slept on as his mother brushed his hair back from his forehead and sat on the chair opposite of Caden on the other side of the bed. “How has he been?” she asked.

“Asleep,” Caden responded. She couldn’t bring herself to say more than that even watching her tend so gently to her son. A concerned mother she might be, but all Caden could think of was the woman sending young orphan Alistair away from his home.

After a few moments, Caden decided she really didn’t want to be sharing this space with Isolde and stood, electing to leave the boy under his mother’s watchful eye. Isolde glanced up from his face at her.

“I appreciate that you have stayed the course.” She said calmly, though the tight skin around her eyes belied that serenity.

“The course?”

“Allowing my son to live,” Isolde murmured. “I’m grateful, you understand, that he is safe for now.”

Caden nodded. “You have my friends to thank for that. Morrigan’s magical skill is keeping him alive because he poses no threat right now.” She was loathed to even consider harming the boy, even if he was a vessel for a dangerous demon, but Isolde wasn’t to know that. It felt cruel to twist these words, but the low lying anger for the sins of Isolde’s past bubbled under the surface of everything Caden said.

Isolde winced at the mention of the magical powers involved. “Magic… has caused so much harm.”

“Yes, it has.” Caden agreed curtly. “And now it helps. Much like any other tool, it depends on how it is wielded. A knife in the hands of a person with hatred in her heart is a tool for bloodshed and tears. In the hands of a cook, it helps to produce the meals that fill our bellies.” She glanced at Connors closed eyes. “In the hands of a child, it can be an accident waiting to happen, especially if he has no idea what he is wielding or how badly it can hurt.” Isolde raised her gaze to glare at Caden.

“A rather heavy-handed analogy, Warden.” She snapped.

Caden shrugged on her way to the door. “He needs training before he hurts anyone else. I can understand not wanting to send him away.” She paused at the doorway and half-turned back, looking over her shoulder. “It is awful being sent away from your home. It is even more tragic when children are involved.”

Isolde stood in one swift motion. “I take it you are referring to Alistair?”

“I didn’t say that,” Caden replied coolly. “Funny you should mention him though. Guilty conscience?”

“How dare you?” Isolde shook with barely contained rage. “I did what was best for my family.”

“And now Alistair is doing what he can to save it,” Caden said, turned around fully. “You owe him your deepest gratitude.”

Isolde sank back into the chair at the sound of Connor sighing in his sleep. Caden watched him stir, wary of any signs of him reawakening. He settled back into deep sleep. Morrigan would need to be woken soon to recast her spells. Caden chewed on her lip as she considered the strain on Morrigan and then she made a decision. “I’m bringing Jowan out of his cell. He can help Morrigan keep Connor asleep.” Isolde began to protest but Caden spoke over her. “This is not up for discussion. If Connor wakes, I may be forced to kill him and none of us want that. We have two mages to split the burden of keeping him safe. That’s the end of the matter.”

 

*

 

Once Jowan realised she was serious, nothing was stopping him from heading upstairs and to his old quarters. Caden watched him settle back into the small room, going over his meagre belongings and righting what had been thrown asunder when the guards had searched his room for further evidence of him poisoning Eamon. It didn’t take very long, though Caden saw him wince when he lifted the few books in the room and torn papers floated to the ground. For a moment she saw in her minds eye her books, the ones she had carried from the Alienage to Ostagar and what they might look like now, but she shook the thoughts away.

Jowan sat on his bed with a sigh as Caden leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. “I can’t speak to how Eamon will want to deal with you later if he gets well again,” Caden said. “But I didn’t want to leave you down in the cells. Up here you can assist Morrigan with Connor, but remember that she is in charge and you answer to her, got that?”

“I understand,” Jowan said quietly. “Thank you. It is more mercy than I deserve.”

“Maybe,” Caden said. “It’s really not for me to say.”

Jowan was silent for a moment and then he looked up and considered her for a moment. “Can I tell you how I ended up here?” he asked.

“If you like.” She said absently.

“I just think…well, it might put things into perspective.” Jowan went on. “I would hate to be thought of as nothing more than a no-good poisoner. Not that I’m trying to absolve my guilt or deny that it happened, you understand.” He added quickly. Caden merely observed him and waited for the story to come. Jowan considered her for a moment. “What do you know of life in the tower?”

Caden shrugged. “Next to nothing, I’m afraid. Morrigan tells me its little more than a mage prison. Alistair tells me it is both a home and a school for magic.”

“Well, they’re both right to point,” Jowan said grimly. “The tower was my home and I had a happy childhood there. Happier than I had with my parents, that’s for sure. They didn’t trust my abilities. My own mother called me an abomination. When I ended up in the Circle at 5 years old it was the only home I’ve ever known. For a long while I loved it, but then I got older; I started to mistrust the Templars who watched us like hawks or snakes. Like some sort of predator anyway. They didn’t trust us and they made it clear. The other mages just put up with it. It got my back up when I was a teenager.” Jowan rubbed his hands along his arms as if he were cold. Caden listened—she knew the feeling of being watched by apparently superior beings and could sympathise, but she tried to keep an open mind and wait for the rest of the tale. “When a mage is deemed ready, they go through something called the Harrowing. It is shrouded in secret, but my friend went through it right before all this dreadful stuff happened and she told me. They send you into the Fade and you have to prove that you can outwit and out-battle a demon. If you can’t then they kill you. If you can then you are promoted from apprentice to a fully fledged mage. It’s one step closer to possibly leaving the tower.” Jowan looked wistfully out of the nearest window.

“So, you never went through this Harrowing thing?” Caden asked.

“No,” Jowan said, bitterness slipping out of his mouth. “No, I wasn’t deemed trusted enough. You see, if a mage doesn’t somehow fit their criteria for taking the test, then they get made Tranquil.” Jowans eyes shined as a haunted look came to them. “To be made Tranquil is to have everything sucked out of you, everything that makes you a person. No feelings or emotions. No anger, no hate, no joy. No love. Nothing. You’re just a shell.”

Caden listened in disgust. She knew elves whom life itself had made ‘tranquil’, elves who’s eyes held no spark of life. To hear that somewhere in Ferelden there were people being forced into such a state against their will was horrifying. “That’s awful.” She said softly.

Jowan nodded. “It was what lay in store for me. I saw the form authorising it on the First Enchanters desk. I couldn’t let that happen to me.”

“I understand,” Caden said, feeling very strongly that this practise was not something she could agree with. Jowan gave her small smile.

“I was in love,” he said delicately. “I’d fallen in love with a Chantry initiate called Lily. We wanted to be together, but we couldn’t be. Not in the tower. It was forbidden.”

Caden nodded. Things were making even more sense now.

“I had to find and destroy my phylactery, a vial of my blood. Without it the Templars couldn’t hope to find me. Then Lily and I could escape and live out our lives together.” Jowan finished. “Only we were caught and in my panic I turned to blood magic to flee. Once I did that Lily didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“So why not turn your back on blood magic?” Caden wanted to know. “If it cost you Lily?”

“I have…mostly.” Jowan said. “Apart from my suggestion for dealing with the demon. I don’t want to use it again, unless under duress. That’s only why I used it against the Templars at the Circle—it was use it or become Tranquil.”

Caden nodded thoughtfully. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if backed into a corner like that, but she had a feeling that she might have reacted the same way. It certainly explained some things about Jowan, not least how he came to be free from the tower.

 

*

 

_Caden couldn’t escape the dreams any longer. She found herself back with the horde, who had reached Lothering. Through a genlocks eyes she saw the village before her and reveled at the thought of fresh meat. The horde poured through the gates and down into the village, trampling tents and crates in their wake and their hunt for food. They called out, howling and jeering in delight at their feast._

_But they found none._

_What little remained was already dead; livestock rotting in the fields, abuzz with flies and other insects. A sniff and a taste proved they were a few days dead and none too healthy or young before that. As for human flesh, nothing alive remained either._

_The bestial cries turned to rage and despair, hunger gnawing at them after their gluttony at Ostagar. Caden felt her darkspawn yelp in pain as a bigger creature swiped at its flank in ire and the genlock turned and snarled back. Before too long a brawl began which descended into utter chaos. Starved and tired, denied the promised feast and with the Archdemons call far away below ground, the darkspawn turned on each other, tearing and ripping at skin, bones breaking, cannibalising their own kin. The scent of ichor was in the air, the sound of screams and Caden awoke with a start._

 

She was sat up in bed, catching her breath in the dark, when she sensed someone’s gaze on her. She froze and turned her head only briefly to see a pair of eyes wreathed with purple haze inches from her face and couldn’t help the leap in her pulse that propelled her back against the wall beside the bed. Her legs tangled in the blanket as she kicked and then a pressure on the bed brought those eyes closer still. A demonic light bloomed around Connor as he climbed over her legs to sit on her lap, heavier than any ten-year-old boy, his grip like iron. Immovable and rigid. Caden wanted to pull back, but the wall was against her and the boy placed his hands on her upper arms, keeping them in place.

“Where are Morrigan and Jowan?” were Caden’s first words, mind lurching in fear for her friend and the escaped mage.

“Asleep.” came the voice of the demon. Not booming like the day in the courtyard and not entirely human, a layer of power over a boy’s gentle tones. “Safe enough. I wanted to speak with you alone. You are so… intriguing.”

Caden swallowed, willing her heart to steady, but it galloped on with abandon. “I have nothing to say to you, demon.”

“Then just listen,” the words sounded amused. Caden tried to pull her arms free, but they were held fast. Panic swelled, her head scraped against the stone behind her as she flinched from the demon bringing Connors young face closer. “You are so interesting. That power you gave to the mage… delicious.”

“I am a Grey Warden,” Caden managed haltingly.

“No, that isn’t it.” The demon said. “It’s who you are deep down that I hunger for. So filled with hatred and rage… it’s positively sinful.” The words were dripping in something Caden couldn’t help but identify as longing, despite how much the thought of that turned her stomach. “Do you know what I am?”

“A demon,” Caden replied, stupidly.

“I am a being of pure desire,” she said and suddenly the voice weaving around Connors tones was immediately recognisable as feminine. “And I know what it is you desire, my dear. I can give it to you; I can give you all the power you thirst for.”

“I don’t want anything—”

“There is no point in lying to me,” she said. Connors face smirked. “I know what sits in the deepest recess of your heart. I can see it clear as day. You are a powerful thing; your hatred _gives_ you that power and I can help you with it. All you have to do is give in to that hate and let me in to empower you to enact all those fantasies you have.” The hands slackened their grip, but Caden didn’t think to move. The purple haze was clouding her mind, bringing forth images of her battling through Vaughan’s estate. The child’s hands touched Caden’s cheeks with something almost tender. “Little one, you did such a good job. You gave in to that rage and it served you so very well, but just think of what we could do together. How many more men we could slay if you let me into you. Let me come inside you and I can bring you everything you yearn for.” The hands slowly whispered over Caden’s skin as they sank lower, over her chin and down her neck. The boy leaned closer, his breath on her ear.

Caden’s mind was muddled. She could see herself back at Vaughan’s estate, not breaking a sweat as she made light work of dozens of guards all at once. “You would never have to feel afraid anymore. They would fear you instead.” She was strong and fast and brutal. A smile curved over her lips.

The fingers brushed her throat and Caden saw herself come to Vaughans quarters. She laughed and laughed while he cowered beneath her, begging for his life.

A real memory jolted through the haze of Vaughan above her, squeezing her neck and Caden’s arms shot out grabbing Connor’s neck and thrusting him away, tumbling the pair of them off the bed until she straddled him, her hands wrapped around his throat. The demon smiled.

“Look how easily you manhandle this boy,” she said. “Think how wonderful it would be to have the strength to do this to a fully grown man.”

Caden froze, locking her hands, so afraid of the pressure she could apply. How easily Connor’s life could be ended by her hand right now, right this moment. His neck was so fragile.

“This power you are feeling now? This could be you always, darling.” the demon purred. “Finish what you’ve begun, release me from this boy and take me into you.” The voice was keening, small hands found her thighs and skated up her waist as the demon panted softly. “It doesn’t just have to be murder, you know. You could overpower any man you chose for… whatever purpose. That Warden… the one who watches you when he thinks you don’t see him. You could have him, all of him, with me as your guide.” The demons’ eyes locked onto hers, opening her mind to very different images involving her and Alistair. “Let me in, little one. Destroy this body and take me.” Caden squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could hide the pictures in her head. The images the demon conjured into her mind of Alistair. A thrum inside her belly, lower and deeper than any feeling had ever stirred her.

“Stop it.”

“Oh, don’t be afraid.” The demon mewled. “I’ll help you, just let me inside you.” Caden felt her hands constrict before she knew what was happening. “Yes!” The demon exclaimed, the voice beneath her hypnotic voice croaking. “Harder!”

Caden let out a cry, shoving herself off the small body beneath her, scrambling backward until she hit the bed. Connor sat up, smiling.

“Coward,” the demon hissed. “Stupid little girl; I could have given you everything!” She laughed, high and shrill. “Now you will die and you can join that other Warden when you do.”

Terror flowed down Caden’s spine. “What?”

“He will not return from the tower.” The demon said, crawling over on Connor’s hands and knees towards Caden, the smile turning cruel and mocking. “The tower has fallen and you shall not see him until you meet your Maker!”

Caden felt her hand ball into a fist and without breaking eye contact she swung, catching the demon off guard and knocking the pair, boy and demon to the ground. She grabbed Connor’s head and drove it to the flagstones, pitching him back into unconsciousness and stilling the demon.

Caden got to her feet, reaching down and grabbing the boy, grateful he was light and pulling him over her shoulder. She set off down the corridor, shouting all the way back to Connors room.

Morrigan met her at the door. “What has happened?” she asked, her eyes narrowing when she saw the body over Caden’s shoulders.

“I had a late-night visitor,” Caden replied darkly. “Are you alright?”

“Is he dead?” Morrigan asked, placing a hand on Caden’s chest and peering closely at her. “Where is the demon?”

“He lives and she lingers on inside him,” Caden replied quickly, staring into the amber eyes, trying to convey that she was still herself. “She tried to make a deal with me, but I declined.”

Morrigan nodded, suitably placated. “Bring him to the bed.”

Isolde hurried into the room, with Teagan hot on her heels. “Connor!” she blanched as Caden deposited him onto the bed, blood matting his pale hair. “What did you do?”

Caden ignored her, turning to Morrigan and Teagan. “She told me something about the Circle. Said Alistair was in danger.”

“Oh Maker, no,” Teagan moaned in alarm.

“I have to go, right now,” Caden said, making for the door. “Morrigan, you and Jowan remain here and don’t let Connor wake, you hear me?”

“You intend to leave now?” Morrigan asked. “You don’t even know where you’re going.”

“I’ll take a boat,” Caden explained. As she headed back to her room she realised Morrigan and Teagan had both followed her. She reached for her armour and started hauling it on over the shirt and breeches she had slept in. “There’s no other option for it; I need to get to the circle fast if I have any hope of saving the others.”

“What if the demon was lying?” Teagan asked softly. “What if it intends to attack once you’ve gone.”

“Then…” Caden paused, buckling her greaves. “You two and Jowan will need to take out Connor.” Morrigan nodded, but Teagan looked aghast.

“You can’t expect me to—”

“Teagan!” Caden retorted, shutting him up with one word. “You have to. Your duty is Redcliffe; if it comes to it, you kill the demon however you can and you save the town.”

He turned, worrying his hands over his collar. Caden finished fitting her armour and looked up to see Morrigan holding out her scabbards. She took them with a nod of thanks and fastened them on. Morrigan dug into a pocket and pulled out three small vials filled with green liquid. “Take these. Elfroot infusions.” Morrigan said. “I finished steeping them a few hours ago. They will sustain you should you encounter trouble or injuries. And do not die.” She hesitated a mere moment. “You and that Templar of yours are vital to the future of Ferelden. Don’t die.”

“I’ll try,” Caden answered, but Morrigan merely glared down at her. “Alright, I won’t. I promise.”

Teagan turned back, resolute after his momentary panic. “Come along. I’ll get you a boat. We can’t let Fereldens future down. You must bring Alistair back.”

She followed Teagan to the docks where dawn had broken and she watched him assert his orders to charter her the fastest boat they had to carry her across the lake to the tower. Just before she boarded the small boat, Teagan reached into his pocket and slid something into her hand. “Take this for when you find Alistair.” He said hurriedly. “He’ll be glad to have it back.”

Caden nodded, slipping the item into her pocket without looking and then the sails caught an early breeze and Redcliffe started to shrink from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Sirens is by Kailee Morgue.


	28. Where The Lonely Ones Roam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caden heads to Kinloch Hold alone.
> 
> CW: scenes of destruction and dead bodies, including children

_You can sleep when you’re dead_

 

It wasn’t until she arrived at the tower that Caden realised how much she missed being the head of a party instead of a woman alone.

“Knight-Commander Greagoir, this elf claims to need to speak to you.”

She bristled at the introduction, but kept her spine as straight as she could, chin raised resolutely. She was still dwarfed by the Templars around her. The one referred to as the Knight-Commander, which she assumed meant he had rank higher than all the others, looked down at her with a neutral expression. The lack of outright disdain was oddly comforting.

“Well met, Knight-Commander,” Caden said with a nod, unsure if there was a more fitting greeting. “I am Caden Tabris of the Grey Wardens.” A sick feeling overcame her then, that perhaps these Templars were in league with Loghain Mac Tir and had clapped Alistair in irons, which was the reason for him not returning to Redcliffe. The demon had said the tower had fallen, but could she really trust the words of a demon?

“Another one?” the Templar responded. “Your friend came by a few days hence.”

“Yes, I know,” Caden said, deciding to ignore her sudden fears of imminent arrest. She had her blades and her wits and it wouldn’t be her first outnumbered fight. Her right hand unconsciously went to the hilt of her sword to rest. “He is the reason I have come; I am concerned for his welfare and wish to know that he is unharmed.” Her eyes darted around the entrance hall. It was Templar plate as far as she could see, some standing, a few on pallets. She spied a pair who lay unmoving and a robed person draped a cloth over one and then the other, their face placid. She swallowed. _The tower has fallen_. “What has occurred here?”

The Knight-Commander swept a hand across his weary face. “The worst that could have happened.”

That didn’t explain much to her. Caden frowned. “Which means?”

“Abominations.” He replied. “Demons. The worst fate for a Circle.”

Demons. “And my friend?” Caden went on. “What of him?”

A sigh. “He waved some treaties at me expecting that I could fulfil his request for mages. I will tell you what I told him: the Circle is ill-equipped to fight any threat at this point, Blight be damned.”

“Where is he?”

“Inside.” Knight-Commander Greagoir waved a hand towards the doors barricaded behind him. “The Maker only knows what fate befell him.”

Caden nodded and stepped around him to head for the door. “What are you doing?”

“Following my Brother,” Caden said, not looking back.

“The door is barred.” came the reply. “I’ll not open it again.” When this didn’t stop her in her tracks he added: “I have called for the Rite of Annulment. It’ll be here within the day.”

Caden turned back. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“It is a decree that allows me to order the cleansing of the tower.” He explained with all the patience of a man at the end of his tether.

A chill swept down Caden's spine. “And what happens to the survivors when you ‘cleanse’ the tower? Are you even searching for them?”

“There are no survivors,” Greagoir replied, his eyes suddenly cold and distant as if shutters were closing down before her. Caden cocked her head to the side and observed him. He appeared stoic, but the change in demeanour at his last words made her wonder if he wasn’t so afraid of crumbling that he was forcing himself to abandon hope. She felt a pang of pity for him, but it was nothing compared to the sympathy she felt for anyone inside the tower being so ruthlessly sacrificed or the anger at Alistair being one of those potential victims of the cleanse.

“You cannot say that for sure unless you have seen it with your own eyes,” Caden said with a dangerous calm. She could feel her nerves thrumming with tension, but kept her tone civil. “Any order which calls for the deaths of countless people ought to be taken only after checking and checking again.” Her thoughts veered suddenly to Loghain and his decision to abandon the king, the Wardens and every soldier fighting at Ostagar. “Are you satisfied that there are no survivors, or are you merely hoping that there are none so you can sleep at night after ordering their deaths?”

For a moment the room stilled and Caden watched the Knight-Commander closely for any signs of anger. When he met her gaze it was despair that ringed his eyes. “It is too dangerous to go inside and check and too painful to have any hopes dashed by what we might find. Mages that have allowed themselves to be possessed, corrupted into abominations are beyond saving. I have men inside still that I have not been able to account for, some no older I’d wager than you are. This is not a decision taken lightly.”

Caden hurried back towards him. “Then let me help. Let me take the risk. Alistair and I are the only Grey Wardens in Ferelden; I cannot sit idly by and let him die after he tried to help.”

“What if he is dead already?”

The buzzing energy stored up within Caden slipped out of her like tendrils of golden light, feeling for her Brother, wending through the bricks and mortar, seeking out the connection they shared due to their Tainted blood. She didn’t know how to control it, nor stop it, but it seemed to know how to find him and after a moment she felt it. Felt him. A tiny, dim pulse faintly responding to her frantic searching, a slim beacon of hope. Caden snapped her eyes back to Greagoir as the golden sensation dropped. “He’s alive.”

“Oh?” Greagoir appeared unconvinced. “Certain of that, are you?”

Caden swallowed, her mouth set into a steely line. “Yes.” She turned back to the door. “Open this door and I’ll return with my friends and any survivors.”

A Templar by the door shook his head with a derisive huff. Another looked on, hope shining out of his face. Caden fixed her gaze onto the Knight-Commander. “I’m better than nobody, surely. I can do this.”

Greagoir touched the heel of his hand to his forehead, a disarming moment of vulnerability that Caden forced herself to face head-on. Chin high she waited. “Very well,” he finally said, gruffly. “But I warn you, if the Rite arrives I will not hesitate to use it and the only thing that will stay my hand is the sight of First Enchanter Irving stood where you are now. Do you hear me?”

“I do,” Caden nodded. “But know this: should my companion and I fall, you will need to get a message to the Grey Wardens of Orlais. In fact, get word out to all the Grey Wardens in Thedas, because if we fall, so does Ferelden.”

The Templar who’d scoffed at her before hurried to unlatch the doors and shove them open at his commanders' nod. Caden strode through and refused to look back.

 

*

 

Caden walked steadily through the tower. The hallway and the first rooms were soaked in blood. The smell lingered and stole into her nostrils so that she was forced to open her mouth to breathe. The metallic tang threatened more than once to overcome her calm, spiking her pulse, heaving her stomach. She drew her blades quietly, almost afraid to unsettle the quiet that sat heavily on this tower. Her steps were soft, slow, cautious as she moved around the subtly winding tower, passing rooms where she imagined mages learned their lessons. Rows of tables and chairs, all aimed towards the head of the room where lecterns stood. At least she gathered enough information to make this assumption; none of the rooms were unharmed. The seats were upended, scattered throughout the rooms, with papers strewn all around, sticky with brownish old blood.

The rooms weren’t empty.

Draped across the rooms, the wrecked and broken furniture were bodies. The first room she found was awful, but she soon came to think of it as the least bad of them all. Two bodies lay upon the floor. Their staring eyes not halting her approach, her careful assessment of their state. Leaving her swords on the ground she sank to her knees and pressed hands to their skin, the first touch feeling so wrong, but she persisted, hoping to find some spark of life within the broken bodies. It wasn’t until she found the gaping wound in the chest of one that she realised the wrongness of the bodies came from the fact that they were cold and stiff. Her fingers skirted into the hole before she realised what was happening. Congealed, the blood that stuck to her palm was like jam in the middle of winter. Caden upset the silence momentarily with a keening cry as she pushed back from the corpse on the floor, suddenly all too aware of just how dead he looked. Eyes dull and wide, skin mottled where blood had pooled, that dreadful fatal blow. How could she have missed that?

She wiped her shaking hands on draped velvet fabric beside her, before following the now bloodied clothes to the body they encased and she shuddered again. With knocking knees she climbed up, grabbing her swords. “Come on Caden,” she murmured to herself. “Pull yourself together.”

The next serious of rooms made that first seem like nothing.

Twice as many bodies were piled in the second room, the third was just the one person, but they had been torn asunder, one arm and the head greeting Caden as she stepped over the threshold before beating a hasty retreat. The fourth room was full of small children.

Caden turned from that one, shaking her head, spilling tears as she stumbled away. Her throat was tight, mouth dry and she heaved, bringing nothing up. She pitched sideways to slam against the wall, stopping to gulp down air, chasing away the swoon that threatened to drag her under. “No, no, no,” she muttered frantically. “Not now. Not ever. Just find him.”

Unbidden the pull of her Warden-Brother thrummed above her and she looked up as if she would see him. There was nothing but high ceiling, unmarred by the bloodbath around her. The ceiling was painted beautifully with a repeating pattern of moons and stars, and for the longest time, it was all Caden could do but to follow the paintings with her eyes. Moon, star, star, star, moon, star, star, star, moon. It was oddly soothing.

“Right, come on.” She told herself, finding comfort in her own voice and it’s steady tone. “I can do this.”

She pressed on.

 

*

 

The rest of the floor passed much the same. Broken piles of books, splintered furniture, blood and deceased mages, with a few Templars thrown in. It was horrific and Caden could feel her heart sink with each step. Was Greagoir right? Was this all that she could hope to find? And yet whenever doubt stole into her mind, she felt herself instinctively reach for Alistair across the distance between them and his energy would respond to let her know he was still living. In what condition she didn’t dare think about, but she kept moving, one foot before the other. Swords in hand, heartbeat leading the way. It was a while before she had to use them, but when she came to a staircase and ascended to the next level, she was met with the sound of shouting.

Caden gripped her blades and hurried up, rounding the circular stairs until she burst forth to see what was happening. A flash of light near blinded her; she threw up an arm to cover her eyes at once, cowering back from the sudden brightness. A cry rent the air, not of fear, nor malice, but one of a warrior facing down their foe. Her mind immediately flew to Alistair on the battlefield, banging the hilt of his sword against the metal on his shield, drawing the attention of the darkspawn so that nimbler companions could find their marks unimpeded by stronger opponents. This, she saw upon lowering her arm, was much the same, though the weapons wielded were magic.

A woman with a shock of pale grey hair wearing long robes slammed her staff into the ground with more force than Caden would have imagined for an older woman, from which point snaked weaving lines of ice towards the unholy writhing figure advancing on her. Caden felt her blood run cold as she looked past the mage towards her foe, saw the inhuman face, wreathed in fire. Caden was forced to squint to look upon the figure burning like the house in Redcliffe where she had been forced to jump into the frozen water. Much like the house, this creature howled as the ice made contact with its body and it stumbled with the pressure of the cold that fought to gain purchase against the flames that dripped onto the floor.

Caden heard another noise to the side and turned, seeing a cluster of mages huddled against the wall, some younger and smaller than she was. Another pair of the firey beasts were creeping around upon them, but one of the older mages had spied their approach and leapt to defend her small flock. As the children were shielded by more older mages, another woman stood beside the first and Caden felt a jolt of shock as the woman's hair swung around, momentarily displaying a pointed ear as she ran to her friend's aid. Caden felt her feet move and she was at once a part of the fray, hearing a shout aimed at her, but she was acting without much forethought: driving her swords in one simultaneous swing through the body of the first creature. Up close the heat caused sweat to break out on her forehead straight away. Loose flyaway strands of hair that had escaped her bun wafted in the heated air and the force behind her attack dragged swords impotently through the beast, meeting little resistance and throwing her to the side with the momentum of her desperate attack. Spun around the heated air blew at her from behind and she looked up to meet the eyes of her fellow elf, who seemed no less surprised to see her than Caden had been to look at the elf mage.

Caden hurried to turn and brace herself against a fiery claw that sank through the air towards her. She threw up her swords in a cross formation to catch the blow, half expecting to find it sink past the blades into her chest, but her swords suddenly erupted with a sheen of what looked at first like glass, but the frigid shield of air that paused the heat from her attacker and the wisps of snowflakes that buffered into her face from her newly energised weapons told her at once what had transpired. On the how she was still a little fuzzy, but she was grateful when her icy swords succeeded in not only stopping the incoming pain and devastation to her body, but caused harm back at her opponent. The screech it let out was high and blasted flames towards her again, but she took advantage of its pain to pull back and drive her full weight behind her left sword to stab the thing, then to slice with the right, a move that would have sliced at the neck if it had one, but served its purpose even with no visible body parts. The creature threw up its clawed appendages and then dissolved towards the ground, fizzling out like a fire into a scorched ring of embers before her.

With no time to waste, Caden bounded for the next attacker and felt the presence of the two mages beside her as she did and between them they made light work of the second foe, finally turning to the older woman, who glanced back at them as her opponent began to swell in size until it towered over her almost skating the ceiling. Caden felt a sharp pang of recognition. “Wynne?”

Wynne had no such time to waste on placing her it seemed as she yelled orders instead. “Petra, Kinnon, stay with the children. Lorelei, Eliza, with me.”

The mages hurried to her aid and Caden found herself following. The enchantment on her swords sputtered out, but with a quick incantation, the elf mage coated them once again in ice. Caden nodded her thanks and started to skirt around the large creature, it’s hunger seemingly focussed on those wielding magic. Caden acted independently of the mages, but felt the moment they attacked after she sank her blades into it’s back, distracting it enough for them to fire off yet more cold spells. The creature acted as a barrier between her and the spells, thankfully, but she felt the icy blast either side of her as their combined efforts hurt the thing enough to temper it’s swollen form, shrinking it back down so that they could continue their onslaught until it vanished into a black mark and nothing more.

Caden didn’t feel ready to sheathe her weapons and at any rate they were still giving off extreme cold, which she didn’t relish against her body even though her scabbards. She held them loosely however, the points aimed to the ground attempting to appear as non-threatening as possible.

“What the fuck were you thinking going up against a rage demon with those things?” Came the greeting; a barked jeer from the dark-haired mage, her almond-shaped eyes hard as she stared down Caden. “You might as well have left those on the floor and used your bare hands for all the good they would do.”

Caden tilted one sword, watching for a moment the scattered icicles along her blade. “I’m not certain my hands would have coped as admirably with the enchantment, but maybe next time?” Her voice was calm, despite the snark she felt towards this woman she had moments ago stood beside to assist. The elf caught her eye, her face hard to read. Caden nodded to her. “Thank you for the magic.”

Wynne stepped forward having taken a breath to check that the small mages were still alright. She glanced up and down Caden and her face was hard, quite unlike the expression she had worn back at Ostagar, when she had been so kind. “What are you doing here?”

“I seek my companion,” Caden replied. “A Grey Warden known as Alistair, who possibly came through this way with a mabari, a woman and a large man.” She was wary of describing either Leliana or Sten more accurately though why she could not quite put her finger on. “Have you seen them?”

“We have,” the elf mage answered. Her skin was dark, much like Hawkes had been and her hair was captured into tight, thin braids that were themselves swept back into a knot at the nape of her neck bar two which hung down before her ears. There were rings through every available surface on her ears, from the lobe to the point. Even in this moment after that fight, Caden's insides twisted into something akin to jealousy. Her ears looked so exciting adorned like that. “They passed by some time ago. It’s been difficult to gauge the passage of time lately.”

“Thank you,” Caden said with a small smile. Finding a fellow elf had thrown her somewhat; she hadn’t ever really thought about the possibility of her kin wielding magics. Probably there had been peers in the Alienage who had displayed talent and been sent to the Circle, but none she had known personally. She wondered where this woman came from. “You should make your way downstairs. The below floor is devoid of… life, but hide their eyes.” She added with a look to the kids and a soft tone. “It’ll be safe for you to hole up there until I get back with the First Enchanter.”

“Hold on a moment—” the human mage snapped, but Wynne strode closer, her eyes sharp.

“Irving? What do you mean?” Wynne asked.

“Greagoir, he told me to bring the First Enchanter to him,” Caden said carefully. It didn’t seem likely that she could avoid this topic. “Without him, they won’t stop the Rite of—”

“So they have called for it,” Wynne interrupted, her hands clenched. Caden just nodded. “I expected it, but I had hoped…”

“Well, fuck.” Came the assessment of the human mage.

Caden waited a moment to see if they needed anything more from her during which time the ice magic sputtered out and she resheathed her swords with a sense of finality. “Take my advice and I’ll see you soon.” _Hopefully_. She began to walk.

“Hold up a moment.”

Caden stopped, her shoulders squaring up as she turned back. The human mage had one thin brow arched high as she regarded her; the elf was baldly staring. Wynne's footsteps echoed as she crossed the divide towards the Grey Warden. “You cannot intend to go on alone.”

Caden shrugged, resting one hand on her hip. “I don’t see that I have a choice. My companions are within. I'm here for them.”

Wynne cocked her head to consider the elf. Caden watched and waited. “I do remember you from Ostagar.” The old mage said after a short while. “I remember how lost you looked, how small and fragile surrounded by soldiers.”

Caden felt her skin fizzle with irritation at that assessment, even if a small part of her knew it to have been fairly accurate. She had been overwhelmed by the sights of the fortress, the humans around her and the task to find her new camp.

Wynne continued: “It was hard for me to see the spirit in you that Duncan must have seen to bring you to the Wardens. Very difficult indeed, but I can see some of it now. You mean to go on no matter how foolish that might be.”

“I have to—”

“I understand,” Wynne said, putting up a hand to calm Caden. “I have been there myself; you don’t leave a fellow warrior if you have the chance to bring them aid. I am a healer, I know what it means to seek out the wounded and sick and try to restore them. I do understand. But you cannot go on alone. Such a task would be pointless; you wouldn’t last more than a few moments outnumbered by demons. I will accompany you.”

Caden frowned as Wynne turned to her companions and began to issue orders. “Petra and Kinnon, the pair of you are to keep the children safe. Take them to the floor below and hole up by the doors to await our return with Irving. You are both strong barrier mages, so that is to be your first tactic against any demons that come down. We shall send anyone alive down to you to assist, including any Tranquil we find. Lorelei, Eliza, as you are both full mages now I give you the choice to come along with me and the Warden or you may choose to stay with the others.”

“Hold on—” Caden began.

“I won’t leave you Wynne.” The elf said at once.

“Let’s go.” The human agreed with a raucous grin.

“Hold on—” Caden tried again, but Wynne strode towards her.

“This is non-negotiable.” She said softly, but there was a glint in her eye that halted Caden from trying to protest again. “Irving is my dear friend of a great many years and this tower is my home for better or worse. I cannot leave it unattended. I mean to aid you if you truly intend to put it to rights. Do you?”

“I really only came for my friend,” Caden admitted, but then sighed. “No, that’s not true. I did come to find my companions, all of them, but I also came to seek the aid of the mages. I also wouldn’t leave someone at the mercy of an enemy if I could help, though we really must move quickly.”

“I thought as much,” Wynne nodded, glancing at first to the two mages she had referred to as Petra and Kinnon. “Very well, you two downstairs with the children.” She looked to the other two. “Lorelei, Eliza with us.”

The two parties split; Petra and Kinnon herding their young charges, all wide-eyed and pale, down the stairs as Caden had directed, the other group falling into step beside Caden and moving on.

It felt rather strange to be surrounded by three mages, none of whom were known to Caden. Wynne, she had met before, but if the impression the older woman had of her was one of a lost little girl, then that felt unsettling for Caden. She had changed since Ostagar, no doubt Wynne had as well.

As they rounded a corner, Caden realised that she still had no idea which mage was which and so she broke the short silence with her question to find out.

“Lorelei Amell,” the human mage introduced herself at once. She was tall and willowy, her skin almost shining with its soft pale pallor. Her hair was long and incredibly straight and shiny.

“Eliza Surana,” the elf offered after, her tone much less assertive. Eliza smiled at Caden as she spoke, her green eyes darting towards Caden's ears. “Are you really a Grey Warden?”

“I am,” Caden said. “When Wynne and I met a few weeks ago I was only a recruit, but since then I’ve become a fully-fledged Warden.”

“Same.” Eliza shook her head at her own words. “I mean I went through my Harrowing a week ago, so I’m a full mage. Lorelei, too.”

“I’ve got longer on you, don’t forget,” Lorelei grinned.

“The Harrowing?” Caden asked. “I met a mage recently who told me about that. Do you really have to battle a demon?”

Wynne looked back, her eyes sharp. “That is not supposed to be knowledgeable to all and sundry outside of the Circle.”

“Yes, he said that, too,” Caden admitted.

Lorelei gave Caden an appraising look. “Who did you say you met?”

“His name is Jowan,” Caden answered. “I’m afraid I don’t know any more than that.” An intake of breath that sounded like a hiss came from Lorelei as Caden spoke. “You know him?”

“I do.” Lorelei nodded. “We all know Jowan. Bloody fool.”

Eliza sighed. “He is a blood mage.”

“I know,” Caden said. Another wide-eyed look from the pair of them came her way. “He ended up helping out with a… a problem at Redcliffe.” She could practically feel the disbelief from her new party. “Look, he explained what happened here with him and his fears that he would be made Tranquil and his worries for that. He certainly seemed sorry about it and to be honest, he was vital to saving my friends and I.” Wynne glanced at her as Lorelei scoffed loudly. “I don’t know how much you know about the rest of Ferelden, but there is a Blight going on right now. We’ve got to take allies where we can find them; Alistair and I are the only Grey Wardens left after the doomed battle at Ostagar. We can’t be picky.”

“He was so afraid of being Tranquil,” Eliza said softly. “It was all he would talk about. He should have been put through the Harrowing before both of us, but they kept delaying his date. He was so sure they would make him Tranquil.”

“Never mind that now,” Wynne said as they continued down the corridor towards the sound of fighting. “Stand ready ladies.”

A trio of shrouded figures bore down on them as they entered a hall and the battle began.

 

*

 

The rest of the Circle was largely empty of survivors, just as Greagoir had feared. They found bodies, plenty of those of all ages. Some bore sunburst markings on their foreheads and Caden learned that this denoted the dead as having been amongst the ranks of the Tranquil, but mostly it was the Tranquil who were found alive wandering the halls and rooms of the Circle. Caden watched, horrified, as they weaved in and around the death and destruction at their feet to carry out their work, their focus entirely on returning books and tidying up. The look in their eyes chilled Caden and she began to dread seeing mages with that sunburst on their foreheads. She thought of Jowan and his fear; it suddenly seemed all the more understandable that he did what he did.

Some demons lingered in the physical realm; beings of fire or ash that crept about silently, sometimes bursting out from the floor itself before them. The mages were fast, each one fighting back with slightly different skills and Caden was quickly very grateful to have them with her, especially Eliza who focused much of her attention on enchanting Caden’s blades to better deal with demons.

All the while that golden thread pulsed weakly between her and her quarry.

Finally, on the fourth floor, Caden suddenly felt a surge in the connection between her and Alistair and without waiting for the others, bolted for a central room in the tower. Inside, the stone walls were growing something oozing and thick, a bruised purple colour that looked wet to the touch. Caden shuddered at the sight of these fleshy vines spreading along the walls and the floor towards a mound of the same substance in the middle of the room. Her eyes scanned the floor, finding several bodies of various states of decay, some little more than withered flesh on bones, others more recently deceased. The golden pules lead her around the room, heedless of her name being called as the mages followed her inside, desperately searching for familiar faces. She almost stumbled over Sten, the large man lying prone on the floor, his eyes shut. Caden dove for him, pressing hands to his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall. So he still lived. Her head snapped up from her crouched position, and the red hair of Leliana caught her eye, spurring her to crawl across the cold floor towards her.

“Leliana?” she shook the Sister’s shoulders; her head turned towards her, that red hair shining in the candlelit room. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale, her eyelids almost blue against the stark white of her skin. She was chilled, but like Sten she was alive. “Leliana?” Caden tried again, tapping against her arms to no avail.

Caden pushed herself to her feet as Wynne came up behind her. “Caden, be more careful.”

The warning fell on deaf ears as Caden’s gaze alighted on Rosa and she stumbled across the room towards her mabari. “Rosa,” she murmured, her tone rising as she slid to her knees beside the sleeping hound. And she was sleeping; her lids were flickering as her eyes moved beneath them. Her ear twitched and Caden pressed her palm to the warm fur on her head. “Oh, Rosa.” A hot tear splashed down over her fur, running steadily down over her soft muzzle.

The golden thread sparked again and she turned towards the direction she felt a pull from. He was lying on his side, his back to her, but she knew it was him. Caden scrabbled across the short distance between the dog and the man, grasping his shoulder and tugging him over. His face was wan, eyes closed, with a shallow cut on his forehead that had bled lightly down over his nose. Cradling his head in her lap, her palm cupping his face as gracefully as her trembling hands would allow, she wiped absently at the blood, but it was dried and she only succeeded in scraping a tiny amount under her nail. His face was warm enough to prove to her that his heart was still beating, but he looked sick. His ghostly pallor worried her; he looked to be on the cusp of slipping away. Fear gripped her tight and she cried: “Wynne!”

The older mage came over quickly, peering down to take in his face, but before they could speak Eliza echoed Caden’s shout. Wynne turned and Caden looked up, following her gaze.

The figure that came around from the mound of flesh like substance in the room moved too slowly for Caden to register, but when she blinked it had crossed the room as if it had slipped through time itself to do so. It was tall, wiry, with purple veins crossing over its face, which could have looked almost human. Two large eyes peered down at them, a slanted nose, but where a mouth should have sat was nothing more than skin. It raised its too long arms and when it spoke, its voice seeped into Caden’s brain directly, like fog pressing through a windowpane.

“Ah, more weary travellers come to sleep,” the voice undulated slowly, each word an effort. The misty chill that was creeping inside of Caden made her shudder and she gripped Alistair’s head tighter as if he would slip away if she let him go.

“What have you done to my friends?” Caden asked, finding the words a struggle to form. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, her lips slow. Wynne raised a hand to rub her eyes. Further away Lorelei stumbled backwards, her knees buckling and sinking to the ground. Eliza leaned on her staff, her eyes wide as she tried to form an incantation.

“A demon…” Wynne said, though Caden had already assumed as much. “We must… resist…”

“What did you do?” Caden asked again, her fingers tangling through Alistair’s hair. She thought that maybe she ought to stand, but her legs didn’t seem to want to work and anyway sitting here with Alistair seemed like the right thing to do. All she needed now was to shut her eyes and lay down beside him and go to sleep.

Caden shook her head as Eliza slid to the floor. Lorelei was already slumped over, eyes shut tight. Wynne was still standing, but barely.

“He is resting,” the voice spoke again, addressing Caden, turning its eye on her and now it only had the one. The lumpy flesh over the demons mouth had spread around its neck and over the side of its head. The eye rolled in its socket to latch onto Caden weary eyes. Her lids felt so heavy. “Wouldn’t you like to join him?”

“No…” Caden said.

Wynne let out a sigh that flew from her mouth as she slowly sank to the floor. Caden looked from the mage across to the others who were fast asleep now. “No…” she uttered thickly. She blinked and the demon was before her. It made her jump, though she could not seem to move; her heart lurched but her body remained in the same position. The demon was bending down to her, tilting its head and everything felt just a little off. Plate metal pressed against her cheek and from inside the armour, she felt the weakest thump of a heartbeat. Her hand was still behind Alistair’s head and was going numb from the pressure of his skull resting on her knuckles, the cold stones beneath her. She was lying on the most uncomfortable pillow in the strangest position and she could already feel the stitch forming from this manoeuvre, and yet, and yet she could not bring herself to adjust her position. Her head was too heavy to lift. She blinked again.

The demon was standing again and she raised her gaze to it.

“Sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is by Digital Daggers.
> 
> Posting slowed down for a while as I did Promptober and then real life got a bit in the way, but should all be back to normal now! Lorelei Amell and Eliza Surana won't be the only not-Wardens who rock up in this fic (Potentials, I'm calling them, as a little nod to the Potential Slayers in Buffy, lol) because I like to imagine what they all get up to if they aren't the one Duncan conscripted. Lorelei also shows up in an NSFW drabble in my Promptober offerings.


	29. Enter Sandman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams inside the Fade...

_Somethings wrong, shut the light, heavy thoughts tonight_

 

“I’m up,” Caden opened her eyes, blearily taking in her surroundings. The knock sounded louder again. “Maker, Shianni, I’m _awake_!”

“I know you are,” Caden looked up to see her cousin standing before her. They were both standing though she could not quite recall getting out of bed. She was up and she was dressed with Shianni smiling before her. “You can’t miss your wedding day after all.”

Oh yes. Caden nodded slowly. That was what she was doing on this day. They’d talked of little else for weeks, had everything planned down to the last detail. Nelaros was on his way to wed her, Caden's father had been telling everyone how special the day would be, how much he was looking forward to giving her away in her mother's dress. On the cusp of adulthood, ready to face the world beside her new husband. The pieces all slotted into place in her mind as the memories came to her along with the weight of the expectations of her. To be proper and quiet and demure and marry Nelaros without a second thought.

Shianni held out her arm and Caden took it. In her hand was a bouquet of flowers, blue and yellow and white to match with her eyes, her hair, her dress. It was all so perfect. They walked into the streets where the houses were festooned with ribbons in the same colours. Flowers bloomed from window boxes and along the cobblestone pavements. The sun was shining so brightly, lighting everywhere with its glow, casting the entire sky above in orange. Caden had never seen the Alienage look so lovely. Her hair was loose, flowing behind her and her dress was longer than she remembered, with fluted sleeves and lace over the bodice. This must have been what everyone said would happen when a wedding came together; that sense of everything being even more beautiful than she could have pictured in her head.

The light shone so brightly that it was hard to pick out the faces she passed by with Shianni directing them along the street towards the dais. Where Nelaros would be standing. In the wavering heat, he was just an outline and for a moment her chest beat with excitement to see the man standing there. From this distance he looked taller, his hair dark blonde, his armour shining… no, Nelaros didn’t wear armour. She shook the image from her eyes and refocused. The light abated on him and she could clearly see his elfin features smiling at her. There he was.

Caden stopped by her father and found his arm replacing Shiannis. He was beaming. “My daughter, I am so pleased to be here with you today.”

“As am I.”

Caden froze, her heart leaping into her throat and she turned, half afraid that she was hearing things. The speaker stepped closer, her long blonde hair loose like Cadens, fanning around her face and she smiled beatifically. “Mama?”

Adaia Tabris opened her arms and Caden fell into them, unable to hold back the sob that stole out of her mouth. Her fingers gripped her mother's arm so tightly, but she didn’t complain.

“My little girl, all grown up,” Adaia said, stroking her palm over Caden's head. “My darling I am so happy to be here to watch you get married.”

Caden pulled back, a sharp spike of discomfort provoking her into saying: “Mama, I’m so sorry.”

“For what, my love?”Adaia didn’t seem perturbed by the apology.

“I…” Caden hesitated. “I can’t remember exactly, but… I lost something. Something of yours.”

“No, you didn’t.” Adaia shared an indulgent look with Cyrion. “We’re all here together, with you in my wedding dress, just like we always pictured.”

“No,” Caden frowned, still clutching her mother's hand as she frowned. “There was something of yours that I had and… I don’t have it anymore.”

“I’m sure it isn’t important.” Adaia insisted. “Now, we mustn’t dally any longer. You’re expected.” She nodded towards the dais. Caden turned and Nelaros was right there.

“You look _radiant_.” He assured her, reaching up to brush her hair out of her eyes where it had fallen. Caden flinched, unable to stop the reaction before she realised she was doing it.

“Don’t,” she murmured. Her heart gave an unhappy thump. Caden stepped back, out of reach of her groom, her fingers slipping from Adaias. “No. I lost something.”

“Caden, sweetheart, it’s normal to feel some doubts,” Adaia said. Cyrion slid an arm around her mother's waist, holding her to him. Shianni was at her elbow with an encouraging grin.

“Come on, let’s get you married,” she said.

Caden shook her head and moved back again. Her feet caught on the train of the wedding dress and she stumbled. “Your boots,” she realised at once. “You gave them to me along with your knife.” Her hands clenched into fists at her side. She missed her swords. What swords?

“This isn’t right.”

The faces before her, of her parents, her cousin, her groom, all regarded her kindly, but the sense of wrongness was digging into the small crack she had found in this moment. “Where are my friends?” She couldn’t think of who she could possibly mean, but someone was missing, that much she knew. Someone important was gone and so was her knife. What had happened to her knife?

“He stabbed me with it,” she said slowly, touching her hand to her hip. Caden gasped as wetness spread under her fingers and she glanced down. It looked like a deep red rose was blooming over the lacy fabric, but it was damp and hot. A flash of a face above her, taunting her. A glint as her knife flew through the air. The agony as it pierced her flesh. She cried out softly as the knife suddenly materialised in her hand and she tugged, sliding it out of her hip where it had settled. There was no blood on the knife now; the blade gleamed, the hilt was warm in her grip. The stain on the dress remained.

“Mamae,” Caden raised her head to lock eyes with her mother, who was holding back, her expression cold now. “I’m sorry.”

“My dress.” Adaia snapped. “Look what you did to it.”

Caden couldn’t stop herself from following that instruction, though one glance and she wished she hadn’t. The gown was stained with red and brown, both fresh and old blood, crumpling the fabric. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry!”

“All you had to do was enjoy this and you spoiled it.” Adaia snarled, her voice deepening. Caden's head snapped up. Her family were melting; their faces losing their familiar appearances, skin sloughing off, eyes burning with hatred. Caden yelped and leapt backwards. The four figures before her rose up out of the faces of her loved ones into their true demonic forms and Caden felt the blow of recollection as various moments that had happened since her fateful wedding day caught back up with her in flashes. One thing was clear: she had been searching for Alistair, in the Circle, and she had found him. What happened after was a mystery, but she was certain that none of _this_ was real.

One of the demons swiped at her arm and she hissed as its claws bit into her skin. This was real. After a fashion at least.

Caden backed up, tripping on the dress again. Her knife was in her hand and four demons loomed above her, but she felt oddly calm in that moment. These demons had tried to make a fool out of her with their lies and deceitful faces. The knife was a blur through the air as she swung it into the substantial bodies of the demons, no longer afraid that her weapon would not be able to hurt them. She would make them pay.

 

*

 

_“We are Wardens! One and all! Fight for justice, shield for vengeance! Crush our enemies! One and all!”_

Alistair heard his voice join the chorus of his brothers and sisters and his heart was filled with joy. He couldn’t remember who had begun the song or what he had just been talking about, and he had been saying something, hadn’t he? It was important whatever it was and he frowned trying to remember. Someone had said something and he had replied loudly… a shout of jubilation to meet the cry of his fellow Wardens no doubt. A tankard of ale was pressed into his hands, or maybe he had just remembered it was there. He drank deep, the liquid spiced and warming. He was smiling, grinning from ear to ear, sitting at the long table.

Ostagar. They were at Ostagar.

Now he recalled: they had battled the darkspawn that day and they had won. Not a single member of his order had fallen, which was cause for celebration indeed. Alistair raised his tankard with a cry that met the voices of his friends as they rejoiced together as one. His armour shone in the firelight, the blue and silver shining brightly in the gloomy night, keeping the shadows at bay. Exactly as they had done; the Blight had threatened the landscape of Ferelden and would have spread to every inch of Thedas had they fallen, but they had persevered, quenching the fires of the enemy.

His tankard was full again and he drank half it’s contents with a smile. All around him was warmth; the faces and voices of his fellow Wardens. He looked around but he was sitting while they were moving swiftly about the table and it was difficult for him to place any specific faces as they brushed past. The laughter was so loud and someone started singing again. Alistair’s smile faltered for a moment. He couldn’t shift the nagging sensation that someone was missing, but when he tried to focus on who that was their image blurred, like trying to make sense of reflection in a rippling pond.

“Alistair!” He turned. “My boy!”

“Duncan!” Alistair was on his feet, the tankard vanished as he embraced his Commander. He wrapped his arms around the older mans shoulders and for a moment the world gave a sharp lurch, a sudden dreadful feeling gripping him. There was a sick sensation in his belly that when he let go he would lose Duncan forever. He supposed it was akin to the fear a child felt upon entering a crowded market with its mother, only that was stupid. He was a grown man, and anyway, he hadn’t ever had that feeling growing up an orphan. He released Duncan feeling self-conscious.

“Alistair, I am so proud of you,” Duncan enthused, his eyes brown pools of respect and awe. “You fought beside me so well; I knew nothing would happen to either of us as we were fighting side by side!”

Tears welled up in his eyes and Alistair sniffed with a smile. “I’m so happy you’re alright, Duncan. I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me? I haven’t gone anywhere!” Duncan laughed and Alistair felt foolish for that aching sense of loss that lingered when he looked at Duncan. Silly of him; his Commander had been with him all along.

“Alistair!” Another shout had him turning towards the golden-haired, golden armoured king who swooped down on him and drew him into an embrace. Familiarity settled over Alistair although it felt strange; the king had never hugged him before. Cailan clapped his hand on Alistair's back then stepped away, hands on Alistair's shoulders. They were practically the same height, him and the king, and yet he could not remember ever having looked so baldly into his eyes. “You fought well and the Blight is ended!”

“I am glad to hear it,” Alistair replied, his voice catching. Cailan was beaming at him and the sheer force of joy and pride on his face was almost too much to bear. “I am glad you are well and that nothing happened to you.”

“Me?” Cailan threw back his head and laughed loudly, the noise reverberating around the camp with the Wardens picking up the sound. Alistair's cheeks started to hurt from smiling along. “Nothing could have happened to me with the Grey Wardens fighting alongside me. I shall be king forever with you all to defend me and so much of that is down to you, Alistair. You are the greatest warrior I have ever known. I’m so proud of you.”

Alistair's chest swelled at the kings' words, any lingering doubts skittering away in the bright light of Cailans and Duncan's approval. The Warden song began again and this time he joined in louder than all the rest.

 

*

 

“Hello?”

Caden walked. She couldn’t quite remember the specifics, but she’d fought and killed a quartet of demons and then found herself in a room. The Alienage had melted away around her, leaving misty brick walls that looked like she was viewing them beneath the surface of a lake, yet were firm to the touch when she pressed her hand to them. She was alone, in her stained wedding dress, clutching her mother's knife.

When she spied a doorway in the room she had gone through it, seeing little else to do, and found a long stretch of hallway beyond. And so she walked.

“Hello?” She called, her voice echoing in the emptiness. “Is anyone there?”

The walls had no roof and above her the sky, if she could call it that, was a strange mixture of colours. It seemed orange until she looked at it, which revealed it was green after all, but with more focus, it bled into yellow instead. There was no sun, no moon, nothing that she would have expected to see in the sky, just this cloudy mass of colours merging from one into the next. Caden had no idea where she was, she just knew she needed to find her friends.

“Alistair?” She called, aware that she could be bringing more demons down upon her, but determined to find her friend.

“Hello?”

Caden whirled. Behind her in the previously empty corridor was a doorway. Standing just inside the door was a young man in long robes. He locked eyes with her, his expression guarded. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” Caden retorted, but then took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. “I’m sorry. It’s been a strange day. My name is Caden Tabris.”

“You are not a mage.” It wasn’t a question, but Caden answered it as if it was.

“No, I’m not. I’m…” she trailed off, her mind fuzzing over. “I’m looking for someone, my friend. No, my friends, but particularly Alistair.” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip in thought. “I don’t know where I am, so it’s… tricky.”

The mage seemed to relax at these words, though why she had no idea. “I can tell you that.” He touched his hand to his chest. “I am Niall of Kinloch Hold and we, Caden Tabris, are in the Fade.”

“Oh,” Caden said, the realisation taking a moment or two to sink in. “ _Oh_.” Then another horrible thought: “Are we dead?”

Niall shook his head. “Sleeping. We’ve been enchanted into this sleep by a demon of Sloth.”

“What for?” Caden wanted to know. “And how do we wake up?”

“Sloth demons magic their prey into this slumber and distract us with beautiful memories so that they can feast upon us,” Niall explained darkly.

“Sounds like a children's story.” Caden mused, trying to remember. A book and her mother and a warm summers evening. “I’m sure I’ve read this before…”

“Waking from that distraction is difficult enough, but to wake back into the real world will only happen after the demon is dead. You have to find it and kill it, here in the Fade.” Niall finished his dour assessment of the situation.

Caden nodded. She felt the cool weight of her knife in her hand and straightened up with resolve. “Alright then. Let’s go kill it.”

She set off down the corridor. After a moment Niall appeared walking beside her. “You can’t be serious.”

Caden shrugged, not breaking her stride. “I don’t know where my friends are or where this demon is, but if that’s what I have to do then I’ll do it. You don’t know where it is, do you?”

Niall walked beside her for a while in thought. The corridor stretched on unchanging and fading into the distance. “I guess we keep walking. The demon controls this whole part of the Fade, but it isn’t all-powerful. It needs bodies to feed on to maintain this dimension at this current size, but it’ll be lurking somewhere. Chances are we’ll find your friends along the way if this is the only route we can take.”

Together they walked, the corridor unfolding before them as they went. After a short while, Caden spoke again, in part to focus her mind on the task at hand as there were fuzzy edges to her thoughts that she felt certain would eventually allow her to forget what she was doing if she didn’t fight it. Talking seemed as good an idea as any to keep that fog at bay.

“How come our dreams didn’t keep us mollified?” she asked. “If the demon’s goal is to present us with the happiest ideas to keep us quiet and dreaming, what went wrong with us? Do you think my friends are awake as well?”

“I can’t answer for them,” Niall admitted. “For me, the dream was lovely but unrealistic. It had obviously taken some memories of my mother and was showing me what it thought I wanted to see, but it was just… wrong. It wasn’t her.”

Caden smiled sadly, the corners of her mouth rising only marginally. “Me, too.” Niall glanced at her as they walked and the two shared a brief moment of camaraderie.

“Families are hard for mages.” Niall elucidated after a short pause in which only the sound of their footsteps could be heard. “Often when a child displays their abilities for the first time, it’s a terrible moment for a family. Whether they are afraid for their child or of their child, mostly the revelation is driven by fear. But not my mother.” A ghost of a smile flitted over Nialls face. “My mother told me that I was destined for greatness and that my powers were a gift from the Maker.” He chuckled softly. “I was lucky. Even if I still had to leave my mother and live in the Circle, I always knew I was so loved. I never felt ashamed of my magic.”

“It’s important to know your parents are proud of you,” Caden added, somewhat needlessly summarising his point. She thought of Adaia training her when she was small and then of Cyrion trying to dissuade her of her fighting skills after her mother had died. “My mother was always a champion of me.”

“Exactly,” Niall nodded. “That was why I had to do what I did. When Uldred started trying to persuade my peers to join him, I refused.”

“Who’s Uldred?”

Niall seemed surprised. “You didn’t come across him in your journey up the tower? I suppose that makes sense; he was heading for the Harrowing chamber after all.”

Caden shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure I understand…”

“Uldred is a mage in the Circle,” Niall explained. “He was trying to start an army of abominations—mages corrupted by demons. Those who opposed him wound up dead if they were lucky.”

“What about you?” Caden asked. “You resisted him?”

“I was able to sneak away from his minions,” Niall said. “I knew we would need help to defeat him, so I went to collect the Litany of Andalla. As far as I know, I still have it, back in the real world.”

“We need that to fight Uldred?” Caden asked. “And then we save the Circle?”

“Pretty much.” Niall shrugged. “That’s the theory anyway.”

“Alright then.” Caden ticked off her to-do list on her fingers. “Find my friends, kill the Sloth demon, wake up, get the Litany, kill Uldred.” She threw a smile to her companion. “I guess your mother was right about you doing great things.”

Niall didn’t look as comforted as she had expected, but before she could decide whether to press for more information or let it hang, there was a commotion up ahead that stole her attention. Both the Warden and the mage quickened their steps, hurrying across the stones towards the noise. A new doorway had materialised ahead on the left and it was to this ajar door that they hurried. Peering inside Caden could see Wynne standing before a room full of people. She was in profile and Caden immediately zeroed in on her face, which was clear and firm. She wasn’t entirely sure what a person looked like under the influence of the demon induced dream, but Wynne looked too present to be distracted.

Of the people in the room that Wynne was talking to Caden recognised Eliza, sitting and listening to Wynne with a foggy expression. So that was the look of a bewitched dreamer. There were other’s sitting with Eliza and trying to draw her attention back to them. Demons, Caden reckoned. She stepped up, her knife glinting as she clutched it higher.

“Eliza,” she spoke with assurance, striding to stand beside Wynne, who glanced to her. “Wake up.”

“Caden?” Wynnes shrewd eyes were taking in Caden's own.

“Hi Wynne,” she replied with a nod. “I see you didn’t let the demon get the better of you.”

She could have sworn she saw a smirk flit briefly over Wynne's face as she arched one grey brow. “I have been around too long to become easily swayed by the pretty temptations of any demon.”

Eliza was shaking her head as she listened to this back and forth; one of her companions reached over to touch her hand. “Eliza, don’t listen to them.”

“Eliza, do listen to us,” Caden said.

“My dear, these people are not your friends.” Wynne put forth, more gently than Caden would have expected. “You have to come with us.”

“I…” Eliza tried, her eyes snapping from the demons wearing elven faces and back to the others. “What…?”

Caden stepped closer to her and knelt beside her where she was sitting. “Think very hard. You were at the Circle, fighting demons, when we all fell asleep. Remember me? I’m a Grey Warden. You had not long passed your Harrowing. Us elves have to stick together and help each other out, right? Let me help you wake up.” She reached for Eliza's hand and felt her slender, cool fingers slip through hers. Caden straightened up and tugged Eliza to her feet. Her green eyes were losing the fog and becoming clearer the more she looked at Caden.

“I’d never heard of an elf being a Grey Warden before,” she said slowly, as if each word was an effort. “I was so impressed.”

“So was I,” Caden said. “With you.”

“No!” screeched one of the demons, their face melting into a horrifying visage. Eliza gasped and stumbled backwards, hand still fast in Cadens. She gripped Eliza tight, kept her on her feet and her knife sang through the air to make light work of the demon. Wynne didn’t have a staff, but it didn’t seem to matter; she blasted light blue energy at the demons that rose up behind the first and froze them into place. Eliza seemed to draw some strength and used her free hand to cast a ball of crackling lightning to throw at the demons.

Before too long they were gone, melted into the ground as if they had never been there. Wynne came up behind Eliza and turned her around into a warm hug. Caden let Elizas fingers slide from her hand and smiled at Niall.

“Thank goodness, Eliza,” Wynne was saying. “Those demons were built to keep you contained and I’m so proud of you for fighting them.”

“Thanks, Wynne,” Elizas muffled voice came from the enveloping arms of her mentor.

Caden watched the rest of the scene dissolve into the same misty bricks that the rest of the place was built from. The wooden slats of the home disappeared, all seeming very familiar to her as she watched them go. Another Alienage she presumed. A flicker of warmth grew for Eliza as she was reminded that they probably had both come from very similar backgrounds. She had meant what she had said; to know a fellow elf had risen up to find herself in the world, even if that world was confined to the circular walls of the tower.

“Shall we head on?” She suggested when the embrace between the mages came to an end. “We still have to find the others.”

 

*

 

Alistair had a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, but he wasn’t fighting. It took him a moment to place what he was doing; he was standing, and the Wardens were with him. The feeling of revelry was still awash throughout the group. They were standing with the king, it occurred to him. Cailan was in their midst as though he belonged, squeezing in between Alistair and his nearest Warden-Brother. On his other side was Duncan. He wondered what they were doing and couldn’t help but frown as he thought that; why didn’t he know what they were doing?

The bodies around him started running through drill exercises and he felt them move as a wave around him and he moved too, tossed about like a small leaf floating down a river. His arm followed the motion of the group and he raised his sword high, bringing it down with a yell that was matched by the rest.

Nothing in this moment felt strange— he’d run drills before, over and over with his fellow Wardens—and yet nothing felt right, either. Like an insect in his ear, a buzzing was distracting him from the others and his voice didn’t rise to meet the others. Cailan paused and turned to him, his graceful face wrinkling with confusion. Alistair tried to amend his mistake, but he was out of sync with the others, his cry alone a beat after the rest. More faces glanced at him, all mirroring the frustration on Cailans face. Alistair tried to keep his eyes forward, but he was drawn to look around to Duncan. his expression sent ice down Alistair's back. “I’m sorry,” he hurried to say, eager to wash away their disapproval.

The buzzing fly was louder now and Alistair swatted at the air by his ear. Nothing was there and the noise carried on. “I’m sorry.” He said again, raising his voice to be heard over the droning noise by his head.

“Are you with us, Alistair?” Duncan asked. His voice was flat, with an edge of something that felt vaguely threatening. Alistair faltered, his arms dropping to his sides, the sword and shield to heavy to hold.

“Of course,” he replied, his mouth dry. “Always. But—”

“Then be with us.” Duncan cut in.

Alistair broke from the rest, taking a step forward and whirling around to face them all. “I will, but first there’s something I need to do.”

“What could possibly be more important than this?” Cailan laughed.

“I…” Alistair shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I just know I have to do it.”

“Alistair,” Duncan’s tone was low with warning. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” He stepped back again and this time the wave came with him, their voices deafening, drowning out even the buzzing that was so loud in his ear. They crashed down upon him, eyes hard and cold, blades shining.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title song is by Metallica, and was the only chapter named after a song back when I wrote the first draft of this fic in 2010. I always found this part of the game a drag and a bit of heavy metal helped me get through it. I've obviously taken some liberties with this fic and swapped out the canon fighting and shapeshifting for something that I've tweaked to be similar to the Netflix adaptation of The Haunting of Hill House. No spoilers, but I'm sure if you've seen it you'll have already spotted where I got my inspiration from. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter was meant to be done by now, but I decided to split it in two because it got away from me somewhat!


	30. Fade To Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caden continues her search for Alistair in the Fade.

_No-one but me can save myself, but it’s too late_

 

They were demons, the whole lot of them. Tears stung his eyes as Alistair swung his sword through the melting visage of his commander. He felt like he was killing Duncan all over again. Dead, first on the battlefield, without Alistair at his side, and now again by his own hand. Duncan had been alive again, a ghost plucked from his memory and made real and now he was destroying him all over again. It almost didn’t matter that when he slew the thing pretending to be Duncan it reverted back to its true form. All he saw was Duncan and how badly he’d let him down.

The thing that wore Cailans face hissed at him, an inhuman sound from a very human-looking mouth. Alistair’s heart was gripped in terror at the wrongness before him and he had to look away when he struck true and sank his blade into the chest of his king.

After a while he was alone. Sinking to his knees against the cold stone floor he bent his head, his arms snaking around himself and he wept. They had all died at Ostagar and left him to face everything by himself. Recent memories slotted back into place in his brain, jolting sorrow through his heart. He was the last Grey Warden.

Except that was wrong.

The source of the buzzing in his ears became clearer as the unfathomable noise seemed to slide into words all at once and he realised the distraction that had kept him from falling completely for the demons lies, was Caden. _Caden is here, Caden is here, Caden is here_.

“Alistair?”

His head shot up. There she was, just as he remembered her.

“I was just thinking about you.” Alistair heard himself say, scrambling to his feet. She didn’t seem to mind. Caden looked up at him as he stood up straight, ever the smaller Warden. “Where have you been?”

“Looking for you, of course,” she replied, no accusation in her words. She smiled, though it was a gesture that didn’t quite match the worry clouding her eyes. “Come on, we have to hurry.”

She brushed past him, close enough that he could have shifted his hand a fraction of an inch and grasped her arm. The surroundings, he now realised, were different to how they had appeared when he was enclosed by his pretend Warden-Brothers. High stone walls that shimmered in and out of view; solid, and yet not, reaching up so high before disappearing into darkness instead of a ceiling. Caden walked ahead and turned back to lock eyes with him. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Alistair asked. His nerves were shivering under his skin.

“We have to hide,” Caden replied, urgency weaving through her tone of voice. “Something’s coming, something really bad. We have to hide.”

“Hide?” Alistair couldn’t help the step back, it happened before he knew what he was doing, but Caden crossed the divide and held out her hand to him.

“Alistair, trust me.” She implored. He looked down at her palm, so small and pale. Wordlessly he slide his hand over hers and let her wrap her fingers around his. She was incredibly cold.

 

*

 

The companions halted at the sudden sound. Caden blinked; it was familiar and strange all at once. Like a memory it shuddered through her and before she knew what was happening she turned and crouched, arms open wide, ready to welcome.

Rosa appeared at the end of the corridor. Mouth open, with her tongue lolling over her jaw she bounded across the stones, drawing laughter from Caden before leaping into her with force enough to topple her over. Hot breath and wet kisses. Caden’s tears were forced out by her joy as the warm, heavy body wriggled across her and finally settled down to sit on her lap.

“You know this mabari, I take it?” Wynne asked, a wry smile on her face.

“Oh Rosa,” Caden buried her face in the neck of her dog. “I missed you, girl.”

Rosa let out a happy little bark and Caden could have sworn she was smiling. With a gentle shove, Caden got her legs free and stood up, her mabari pressing against her once she was upright again. “It’s alright, Rosa. We won’t be separated again.”

“I wonder what she was dreaming about.” Eliza mused as they started walking again.

“Do dogs even dream?” Caden asked. Niall walked beside her and Rosa gave his hand a sniff.

“Whatever the Sloth demon tried to do to her mind, it obviously didn’t take.” He determined with a faded smile at the dog. “She came looking for you.”

“Where did you find her?” Wynne asked.

“Ostagar,” Caden replied giving Rosas head a scratch. “Her master died before the battle and I helped find the ingredients to heal her. I guess she appreciated that because she found me after and has been with me ever since. Well,” she shrugged, “until Alistair borrowed her to bring her here.” Rosa looked up at her with pricked ears. “We’re still looking for him.” She told the mabari.

They walked on in silence for a time before Eliza posed a question. The subject of the dreams that trapped them was evidently playing on her mind. “It is strange how some of us have managed to break from the dreams and some of us couldn’t.” Her eyes were angled downwards. It struck Caden that of the five of them, which included the mabari, Eliza was the only one who had been helped out of her dream.

“I faced a demon before I came here,” Caden explained cautiously. Eliza glanced at her but said nothing. “There is a boy in Redcliffe who has been possessed by a demon and part of the reason Alistair came here in the first place was to request the aid of the mages to help save the boy. I was injured before he left so that’s why I didn’t come along and during my recuperation I was visited by the demon.” Caden held back her revulsion at the memory of those sultry, poisoned words and the offer she was made. “She tried to tempt me to give her my body instead.”

“You resisted?” Eliza filled in the blanks.

“I did, but…” she sighed. “It was an offer I considered almost worth taking. I grew up in an Alienage. It was a hard life. There were many wrongs I wanted to right and the demon claimed to be able to help.”

Eliza offered a small smile in return for this hesitant explanation. “I’m sure I was born in a similar place to where you grew up, but I don’t remember it. The only home I’ve ever known is the Circle.”

Caden thought of the stage of Eliza’s dream. The wooden walls, the demons who looked like elves with the same colouring as Eliza. She might not have remembered her past but that memory still lived in her mind, enough for the demon to draw upon it to placate her into sleeping. A pang of sorrow thumped in Caden’s chest; her wedding day had not been enough of a draw to keep her down, whereas Eliza had been shown something she had forgotten all about. How could she fight that dream if it hadn’t really happened? Caden didn’t know how to express these thoughts into anything helpful to soothe Eliza’s regret at needing help to wake out of the dream. She let the moment pass.

“Regardless of the offer, you did the right thing by refusing,” Wynne said, cutting through Caden’s thoughts. “Deals with demons always come with a great price and it’s rarely one they explain upfront. Possession is dangerous for everyone, not just the person with the demon inside them. How is the boy?”

“I left some mages behind,” Caden explained. “Jowan is one and the other is mage who grew up outside of any Circle.”

“An apostate.” Wynne sniffed.

“I suppose, but she doesn’t seem to like that name,” Caden said drily. “I can’t say I disagree with her feelings on Circles. I can see the sense in training mages to use their magic safely, but I’m not convinced about making people Tranquil or happy about the fact that Greagoir is planning to murder everyone in the tower if we fail.”

Wynne didn’t say anything to that but Caden could see her lips purse subtly in response. Whether she agreed with Caden or with Greagoir was not clear. “Well, then we must hurry to find the—”

Wynne cut off at a new sound. Caden was blushing before she registered what the sound was and as she halted in her tracks her gaze met Elizas, who looked equally as uncomfortable. Wynne rolled her eyes as another moan floated across the corridor, coming from a doorway that was only slightly ajar. Niall raised his eyebrows as the older women charged for the doorway, the younger trio hanging back with Rosa. Caden cleared her throat. It seemed childish to stand back and let Wynne take charge; she was a Grey Warden. She was supposed to help people. Even if helping them meant interrupting… something. Caden followed Wynne through the door.

Wynne was standing with her hands on her hips surveying the couple on a bed in the room. The light in this place was low, tinged with rose, both the colour and the scent. Caden thought of the Lothering rose in her pack and the demon back at Redcliffe flashed up unbidden, her sultry tones repeating the offer to help Caden overpower men any way she wanted. Her cheeks burned and she gripped the knife.

“Lorelei Amell.” Wynne barked suddenly making her jump. “Put that boy down at once.”

The couple didn’t stop what they were doing, but Lorelei looked briefly over her shoulder at Wynne, her sheet of black hair falling over her back. She was still robed, but those robes were hitched around her thighs as she straddled someone.

“Hi Wynne,” Lorelei smiled, her eyes glassy. “Give me a few minutes, alright? I’ll make up the time later.”

“Oh for goodness sake,” Wynne griped. “You aren’t late for class, my dear, you are being led astray by a demon.”

“It’s true,” Caden added. Her voice came out reedy and a few octaves higher than she had expected. “We need you to come with us.”

A distinctly male voice groaned loudly, his hand reaching up to cup Loreleis chin and turn her back to him. “Don’t listen to them, love.” He said. His voice was deep and well-spoken. “I’m finally ready to give myself to you.”

He raised himself up to pull Lorelei closer. For a dreadful moment, Caden’s stomach lurched as she saw him; his features were strong, with similar colouring to Alistair, but she blinked and saw that it was not him after all. It was a young man around her age with curled yellow hair. Discarded beside the bed was armour bearing the Templar heraldry.

“Oh Lorelei,” Eliza murmured, coming to stand beside Caden.

“Do you know that man?” Caden asked quietly over the sound of kissing from the bed.

Eliza nodded. “Cullen. Lorelei and he… there have been sparks, but they’ve never… that is, she teases him because he’s a Templar and he’s so jittery around us. I think she finds that funny. Or well, she did at first. I think there’s really something between them.”

Caden felt a fire ignite inside her. The cruelty of the demons tricks went beyond anything she could have imagined. To show her and Niall and, she suspected, Eliza their families was torture. To give Lorelei the man she craved was equally brutal. What might Alistair be facing while she was standing around waiting for Lorelei to comply with Wynne’s orders to get off Cullen? That more than anything propelled her forward until she was right beside the bed. Loreleis hands were wrapped around the back of Cullens head, her fingers digging through his curls. His broad hands were clutching her to him. Caden gritted her teeth and grabbed Loreleis arm. She was tall, but light and when Caden yanked, the startled mage became unbalanced and tumbled from the bed. Mercifully, Caden realised as she caught Lorelei against her, the demon pretending to be Cullen was wearing a pair of loose trousers.

“What are you doing?” Lorelei spat at Caden, who refused to loosen her grip on the woman’s arm.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but that’s not the man you think he is.” She said firmly. “That is a demon and your man, your Cullen, he’s probably in danger. Because the tower has been overrun by demons and many people have died and he could be fighting them right now.” Her gut twisted with her words. She had no way of knowing if there was any truth to them, but it felt like a more compelling argument to break Lorelei of the spell she was under. Like the other Templars, he might have been waiting outside the doors, or perhaps he was already dead, another victim of the villains in the tower. But she could see she was getting through to Lorelei. “You need to wake up and help us stop what’s happening so we can spare anyone else that fate. We have to go and help him, right?”

Lorelei glanced from Caden to the demon that was sliding off the bed and reaching for her, with a languid “Lorelei…”

Caden turned her glare on the face of the man. “Stay back and leave her alone!” Her free hand drew up her knife. The demon laughed.

“There’s enough of me to go around,” he chuckled.

Lorelei let him place his hand on her face. Caden didn’t relax her hold on the mage as she watched. Lorelei was on a knife-edge.

Lorelei raised her hand and pressed it to Cullens face. “Cullen would _never_ say that. Fuck you.” She whispered and then her hand erupted with lightning. Caden yelped and turned her face away as the demon shrieked, melting into its true form and writhing in pain at her touch. Lorelei stood tall and never wavered, her eyes locked onto the demon before her as it died. Then she lowered her hand and took a breath before turning to Caden. Her eyes were hard. “Thank you. You can let go of me now.”

“Oh, sorry,” Caden took her hand back, flexing her fingers to shake off the fierceness of her grip. Lorelei turned around as the room faded away to the usual brickwork.

“Sorry about that.” She said, her tone clipped. “Let’s go kill some more demons, shall we?” Her hands crackled with energy.

“Lore—” Eliza started, but Lorelei strode past without a backwards glance. She kept her eyes forward as she passed Wynne and Niall. Rosa let out a small whine.

Caden shrugged as Wynne caught her eye and with a sigh, the older woman followed Lorelei out. They continued to walk through the corridor to find the rest of Caden’s party. As they walked she worried. Alistair could be facing all manner of horrible things to keep him asleep. She fretted over her friend and let that concern drive her to the front of the group. They walked in silence.

 

*

 

They found Sten next. The mages all baulked at the site of the tall man standing at a campfire with others who looked as tall and as broad as him. Rosa bounded up to him without a backwards glance, with Caden on her heels.

“Sten?” She asked, striding up to standing right before him. His eyes found hers and she was surprised to see more awareness in them than she had expected. “Are you alright?”

“Warden,” he answered, a tiny quirk between his brows the only indicator of his surprise. “You were left behind.”

Caden nodded slowly. So he remembered? “I’m all better now. I came to find you all.”

“Here I am,” he replied sombrely. “I have been waiting.”

“For me?”

“For anyone.” He answered. His tone was dull, but as he spoke he shifted his stance. “Waiting for a reason.”

That didn’t make sense to Caden. She looked around at his companions, that she knew were demons behind their stern faces, gazing into the flames of their roaring fire. “Do you know where you are?”

“More or less.” He answered with a nod. “I am aware that these are not my comrades, for I remember that they all died. I recall how each one died at the hands of those darkspawn you are ordained to destroy. These are not the Beresaad.”

“No,” Caden agreed sadly. One raised his head to glare at her. “They’re demons. I’m sorry.”

“No matter,” Sten said, drawing the sword at his back. It was an enormous two-handed beast of a weapon that looked quite different to the one Kaitlyn and Bevin had loaned their cause. “Shall we begin?”

Caden watched the demons rise up to meet Sten’s attack, but they were no match for him. She barely had time to lift her knife before Sten had defeated all three of the demons he had been stood with. They disappeared as she had become to expect of dead demons along with the cliff-side setting that was the dressing of Sten’s dream. “I like your sword.” She said.

For a moment she didn’t think Sten was going to reply. He lifted his blade and watched it gleam, the blade serrated on one side to look especially menacing, but there was elegance in its design. “Asala.” Sten said reverently. “It is good to have it in my hands again. Even if this is nought but a dream.”

“You knew?” Caden asked as they moved into the corridor. The mages all cast wary eyes over Sten, but Rosa butted her head against Sten’s giant hand and received a scratch in response. “Why didn’t you fight?”

“There was little point,” Sten explained. “I was unsure if this was the end of our mission until you arrived. Now there is hope I must put aside my memories for another time and rejoin you.”

Eliza caught Cadens eye and frowned. Caden only shrugged lightly in reply. She hadn’t considered that anyone might know they were dreaming, yet resist waking from it. It was clear to her that Sten has identified his fallen brethren as not really themselves, though whether he knew the exact details of their location was still a question. But the thought that plagued her mind was that although he’d realised nothing was true of his companions or surroundings, he had chosen to stay put. He was hard to read at the best of times, but it would never have occurred to Caden to stay in her own dream, no matter how desperately she missed her home and her mother. She thought of Adaias arms going around her and holding her close, the thought tightening her chest until it hurt. That thing was a demon wearing her mother’s face, but oh, how badly she had needed that embrace. If she had chosen to stay in the pretend Alienage would the demons have continued to wear those faces, push the ruse of being her loved ones? Would she have eventually had died like those corpses that had littered the floor by the Sloth demon and would that death have been peaceful, blissful in its mockery of her former life? She shuddered. Best not to consider that prospect.

Alistair was the reason she had resisted the dream. She’d remembered the truth about her wedding day, how Vaughan Kendalls had attacked her and how she’d gotten away and joined the Wardens and Alistair had been there, with her, ready to face down the Blight. It struck her then that no matter how good the illusion, once she had seen through it, she could never have chosen to remain. Not if that meant leaving Alistair to finish their task alone.

 

*

 

Alistair was not alone. Caden’s hand was like ice in his and his unease festered inside of him with every step they took. Certainty went to war with his desire to have found a friendly face and it was only when he planted his feet that he realised which side had won.

Caden turned around, her hand still gripping his. His fingers were numb.

“Caden,” he said, unable to use any other term for her when she was looking at him with those inky blue eyes he knew so well, “where are we going?”

“To hide.” Came the simple reply.

“No,” Alistair tugged his hand loose and was momentarily surprised when she allowed it. “Caden doesn’t hide. She faces things head on. You’re not really her, are you?”

Caden took a step closer and reached for his arm. He flinched and those eyes narrowed, even as the smile remained fixed on her mouth. “Of course I am.”

Alistair shook his hand as he thought, hoping to shock some feeling back into it. He felt as though it had been plunged into a lake in the midst of Winter. “Prove it to me. If you’re Caden tell me something about her.”

She was still for a moment before straightening up. “My name is Caden Tabris. I am a Grey Warden, with you Alistair, and we are the only survivors of the battle of Ostagar.”

“I know that.” Alistair pressed. “Tell me something Caden would know.”

The smile was entirely gone now, eyes and lips narrowed into thin slits. “We don’t have time for this. We have to hide.” Alistair took a deep breath and remained where he was. She sighed. “My husband was killed on my wedding day, his name was Nelaros. We’re seeking aid to battle the Blight.”

“I know this!” Alistair’s voice burst out of his chest. “I know this. Tell me something only Caden would know, not something a demon could have pulled from my mind and given her to say. Tell me…” he trailed off with the heel of his hand pressed to his forehead in thought. “Tell me something Caden did while I was here at the Circle. Tell me how she got here.”

Caden’s face went blank for just an instant, a flittering panic shooting through her eyes. Alistair knew in that moment what he had already known: this was just another demon trying to mess with him. His sword was steady even as his heart shuddered. The demon wore Caden’s face until the moment it died when it mercifully slid back into its true form. Alistair reached down to pick up his sword; he hadn’t realised he’d even dropped it after burying it in his friend’s chest. His throat was closed, it hurt to swallow and his thoughts were flying about his head as if they were being thought outside of his mind. His hand was still chilled from letting the demon touch him. He thought about Caden, safe back at Redcliffe, he hoped, and wondered if she would be able to go on without him.

“Alistair?”

He braced and turned to find Caden standing behind him. Alistair gripped his sword tightly and reached out his free hand to take hers and feel the sick icy grasp once more.

 

*

 

“Alistair? Leliana?” Caden called. She had thought she’d heard a noise. The mages and Sten paused, Rosa at her hip as she looked around.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Eliza whispered.

Caden cocked her head and listened, glancing down at the mabari. Rosa was looking up at her, unbothered by whatever noise had caught Caden’s ear. She frowned, concentrating.

“There.” She pointed off to the side. The corridor wall remained firm. “There’s something behind there.”

She strode ahead and lifted her hand towards the wall. There was something on the other side of that wall, she was sure of it. A quiet murmur from behind the wall. Caden lifted her hand to press against the stone.

“Caden!” She whirled, the stone gone. Her companions were standing at the ready, all turning to find a figure on her knees in prayer.

“Leliana,” Caden hurried across the floor, her footsteps resonating on the large flagstones. The walls were high and imposing, stained glass windows cast dull rainbows on the floor. Leliana had her head bowed, her hands clasped before her, rocking lightly back and forth as she prayed. Caden could only pick out single words here and there as she drew closer with the Sister.

“ _…before…shadow… Maker … guide… wander … Beyond…_ ”

“Leliana?” Caden’s skirt swept the floor as she crouched onto one knee before Leliana. “Can you hear me?”

Her voice rose up to speak over Cadens. “ _There is no darkness in the Maker’s Light._ ” Leliana looked up, glaring at Caden and went on. “ _And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost._ ”

“Leliana, we have to go,” Caden reached over to touch her shoulder. Lelianas gaze skated upwards, past Caden’s head and instinctively she turned to see another Leliana glide into view. Then another and a third and a fourth until eventually five separate Lelianas whirled around the room, drawing the mages and Sten closer inwards towards the pair. “Leliana?”

The woman beside her was wearing the same Chantry robes that been her attire when she had first crossed the path of the Wardens, but these others were very different. Three of them wore variations on leather armour, holding daggers with flashing deadly eyes. One wore a gown, tighter than the one Caden still had on, cinched at the waist, corseted tightly to push up her breasts into swells beneath her painted face. The fifth was decorated almost obscenely; her outfit consisting of something Caden had never seen before, a figure-hugging lace and bone structure that left her legs entirely on display and barely contained her bosom at all. Caden flushed and looked back to her friend, fingers gripping Lelianas shoulder.

“ _I am not alone_ ,” Leliana murmured. It seemed like the same prayer as before, but Caden latched onto it.

“No, you aren’t alone.” She said. “I’m here and I brought friends. It doesn’t matter how many demons come, we’ll face them together, alright?”

Lelianas voice sank to a mutter and she closed her eyes against the sight of her selves. Caden got to her feet, turning on the demons. “Hey, we know you aren’t really Leliana.” She announced, loudly and forcefully. “So you can save the theatrics.”

Each Leliana laughed, one twirling her daggers, another drawing a different blade.

“I’m not scared of you,” Caden said. “We’ve killed dozens of your kind tonight and I’ll be happy to add you to the list.”

“We are her and she is us.” The Leliana in the ballgown announced. “We have so many faces. Can you trust her at all? Do you even know her?”

“Leliana is my friend and my ally,” Caden replied. She raised the hand that held her mothers’ knife. “And I’m ready when you are.”

She heard a rustle of fabric behind her and realised the Chant had stopped. A glance over her shoulder revealed Leliana standing tall, eyes trained on the demons before them. “Thank you, Caden. I’ll take it from here.”

Before Caden could blink, Leliana had burst past her, driving her fist into the nearest one of her selves. Her momentum carried her into an uppercut and an elbow to the stomach before the demon could react. In another blink, Leliana, the real one, had wrested a dagger free and was burying it to the hilt in one of her selves.

Rosa gave a bark and leapt to the fray. The collection of mages and Sten bounded in to join.

Caden took a step.

Darkness covered her surroundings and she stumbled before she could catch herself. The black was all around her, deep, dark and inescapable. A cry stole from her lips before she could stop herself and she pitched forward, quickly losing any sense of up or down as she spun through the air, to slam hard into shoulder. Pain snapped through her arm to her neck and she yelped. The darkness was everywhere, it was all she could see, it was inside her—

She opened her eyes to the sight of a blade at her throat and froze. Caden’s gaze travelled up the bloodstained metal to the hand that held it and beyond. A strong arm, a shoulder, a stern expression looking down at her with sweat trailing down his face. “Alistair.” She managed, before the tip of the sword touched her skin and her pulse leapt to meet the blade.

“Tell me something.” He responded, his voice harder than she’d ever heard it. “Something only she would know.”

“What?” He wasn’t making sense. “Who?”

“Tell me something only Caden would know.” Alistair snarled. “I _know_ we’re Wardens, I _know_ what happened at Ostagar, I know the things she’s told me about her wedding day. Stop taking things out of my head and tell me something she would know or I swear to you, _demon_ , I will slit your throat right now.”

Cadens’ mouth went dry. She felt the urge to swallow, to moisten her lips, but the sword pressing against her neck stilled her. Her hand clutched her own knife but she didn’t dare move. Her other hand was flat against the floor, trembling lightly against the cold stone. “Alistair,” she managed haltingly, “please will you take your sword away from me?”

“Tell me something only she would know.” His voiced boomed and she automatically shrank back, but there was nowhere to go. The floor was unyielding beneath her. “Tell me or I will end you!”

“I wasn’t married!” Caden heard the words in a voice that didn’t sound like her own. Quavering, high, the words running together. “My wedding was interrupted and so I never got to marry Nelaros.”

The sword point moved. She could breathe again, though the blade still hovered over her. She took a great gulp of air down. “I didn’t mean to lie to you. It was easier than facing the truth about why I wear the ring.”

Alistair pulled his sword back even further, his eyes drawn in suspicion as he listened. “Why do you wear it?”

Caden lifted herself up on her elbows and scooted back along the stone, anything to add more distance between them. “It feels safer.” She admitted, slowly climbing to her feet, wary of moving too fast and spooking him again. She thought of Teagan noticing the gold band and halting his unwanted flirtation. “Safer if people think I’m spoken for. And,” Caden’s lip wobbled, “Nelaros was the only one who came to get me and my cousin. I wanted to honour his sacrifice in some way.”

Alistair’s face was inscrutable. He surveyed her without a sound, without moving. She tried to look as nonthreatening as possible, which it struck her suddenly she must have done, for she was still wearing her wedding gown. Her cheeks heated as she realised how ridiculous she must have looked. As she was thinking this and half wishing the darkness would swallow her again, Alistair sheathed his sword.

“You’re really you?” He still sounded uneasy. Caden nodded.

“I am,” she replied with a nod. “I’ve been searching for you.”

“Why aren’t you at Redcliffe?” Alistair asked, then blanched. “Connor…?”

“Lives, as far as I know,” Caden explained. “But he, well no, the demon told me you were in danger. That you would die here in the Circle. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Alistair considered this quietly. Then he stepped towards her, ignoring her flinch and held out his hand. “I need to feel you.”

“Why?” Caden drew her hands towards herself without hesitation.

“The demons were freezing.” He said curtly. “I think I believe you, but humour me.”

She was certain she wouldn’t be cold. Her entire body felt aflame as she stepped up to him and placed her shaking palm over his. His fingers curled around her, his body warm. Caden waited, eyes averted from his gaze, burning with embarrassment before he released her. “Well? Is it definitely me?”

Alistair caught her eye and flashed the briefest of smiles. “Shouldn’t you already know?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Caden admitted ruefully. “This place is so strange. I was with the others fighting a whole bunch of different Lelianas, before I fell down in front of you.”

“Truly?”

“Surely you believe that,” Caden replied aiming for lightness. “If you really did kill a host of demons with my face?”

His face darkened and Alistair looked away. Caden could have kicked herself for her misstep. “Are you—?”

“Come on.” Alistair turned towards a doorway that had appeared before them. “I want to get out of here.”

Outside the door was the same old corridor. Alistair looked around at it as though he’d never seen it before, so Caden pushed aside the dreadful concern over just how long he’d been trapped in that room fighting her over and over and marched down the corridor. She could see another doorway ahead and as they drew up to it, out spilled Rosa and the rest of her companions. The slobbery kisses from Rosa were a most welcome distraction as Leliana and Sten greeted Alistair and he surveyed the new members Caden had collected for their party.

When she stood and looked around, every face was turned to her. She found she didn’t mind it so much. If they wanted a leader she would provide it. The corridor had an end in sight now, one large and final door. Her resolve set. “Come on everyone. Let’s go and take out the Sloth demon and wake ourselves up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided at the last minute to stick with Metallica for a second chapter in a row, because the Fade is a beast and it just made sense. I've always found it a bit of a drag in the game and it's been a crazy part to write. None of what happened in the Fade was planned. I've no idea where it came from. Alistair is kind of traumatised and Cadens learned things about her companions, new and old. Fun?
> 
> Lelianas prayer comes from the Chant of Trials, with massive thanks to Dragon Age Wiki for recording all the awesome stuff anyone might ever need for a fic!


	31. This Is Why We Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final showdown with the Sloth demon and onwards to the Harrowing Chamber. 
> 
> CW: description of a few days old body.

_And when we die, we will die with our arms unbound_

 

“I can’t go in there with you.” Caden turned with a frown to look at Niall. He was hanging back from the rest of the group, his hands clasped before him, still and sombre.

“What?” Caden asked, starting back for him. “What do you mean? Why not?”

Niall turned to her, his expression placid, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m afraid my journey ends here. I can’t go with you all to face the Sloth demon. I’ve used up everything I had left.”

“I don’t understand,” Caden drew closer to him, searching his face.

Niall wordlessly held out his hand and raised it palm out towards Caden. She glanced down, but it took a moment or two for the sight to process in her mind.

“What happened?” Her voice was thin. Nialls hand was pale, ghostly. It wasn’t until she lifted her own hand and held it under his and realised that she could see her hand through his that the message sank in. Niall was fading. “How…? Why aren’t you like us?”

His voice was soft when he spoke next. “I fear I have been here too long. I was already dying when you arrived.” He leaned closer, coming down to her eye level. “There was nothing you could have done.”

Caden didn’t understand why there was so much kindness in his words until she absentmindedly wiped her cheek to find it was damp. “It’s not fair.”

“I know.” Niall agreed mildly. “I am glad you found me though and that I could help you find the others. I had feared I would expend myself before we found our way here, but I am grateful to have helped you find the door.”

The understanding struck her then. “The doors… you made them?”

“I only uncovered them.” Niall amended gently. “You found them.”

Caden drew in a shuddering breath, the fear and hope and loss all converging inside her. Everything she’d pushed aside in her pursuit of her friends surfacing behind her eyes, which prickled as more tears spilled over her lids. “Why didn’t you say anything? If I’d known—”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.” Niall cut in gently. “You would have had no choice, but to let me use my connection to this place to uncover the doors. Sometimes we must make sacrifices for the greater good and this was my burden to bear.”

“It’s not fair,” Caden said again.

Niall was thinner again, his form becoming less firm. Caden reached for his hand and it passed right through him. “I know.” He said. “I would have loved to have been able to return to my… my body, but this was more important. The Litany of Andalla should still be in my inside breast pocket. Use it and defeat Uldred when you return.” His body became more insubstantial, fading in the light. Caden watched his face as he shimmered before a thought struck her.

“Wait,” Caden cried out in desperation. “What’s your mother's name? Where can I find her? She needs to know she was right, that you did great things.”

Niall looked up and took a breath before meeting Caden's eyes again. “Elaina.” He replied. “We lived in South Reach. I suppose she still lives there, but I can’t be sure.”

Caden felt the presence of another beside her, a hand dropped onto her shoulder. Wynne.

“I can check our records, Niall.” She said softly. “Thank you for your service.”

Niall smiled and nodded back to the older mage. Caden didn’t understand how they could both be so calm and congenial with each other when she desperately wanted to rage. It wasn’t fair that Niall had to die. Why didn’t anyone else seem to care?

But there was no time to pose that question, certainly no time to answer it. Niall was fading fast now. Caden’s hand was still raised and she held it up, a static wave of thanks and hopelessness as he dissipated before her eyes. Anything she could have thought of to say in his final moments never made it past the lump in her throat. As if anything she could offer would have helped. Caden swallowed her sorrow, feeling so small and irrelevant. Another came up beside her. Eliza. Where were her companions; where were Alistair and Leliana? Rosa butted her head against Caden's thigh.

“Let’s get going.” Her voice was hoarse, but thankfully it didn’t crack as she spoke, the tears drying so that she could turn around and be stoic once again. Alistair was looking down, but Leliana met her look. The Sisters clear blue eyes were steely. Maybe she just wanted to get out of this place. Caden could understand that. Sten inclined his head to her, a small gesture against the sad ache inside her. Caden set her face into an expression of determination and marched for the door.

The room beyond the door was a vast circular space, the now familiar stone walls rising into the darkness above them. The Sloth demon waited for them. It looked nothing like the disfigured thing that had sent them all to sleep. This demon hovered in a dull gown and a helmet pulled down over its eyes, but as Caden walked into the room she could see it tracking her movement. What was visible of its face under the mask was tight skin and teeth with no lips that spoke with a reasonable, languid tone.

“Oh, my weary adventurers.” The Sloth demon said. “I settled you in for a nice, long sleep and yet you refuse to shut your eyes, like unruly children.”

“Demon,” Caden said. “I’d advise you to stop talking.”

The rest of her companions, new and old, fanned out around her. Mages on one side, her party on the other, Rosa raising her hackles right in front of Caden. She tightened her grip on the hilt of her knife.

“I understand you are upset,” the demon continued amicably. “If you all just head back I’ll try again. I understand you better now, I will get it right this time.”

“Enough!” Wynne barked. “You cannot hold us. We have seen your tricks.”

“I am sorry, dear mage,” the Sloth demon spoke to Wynne directly, his voice so contrite. “I know what you need now, I know the faces you need to see. I have had more time to plan and will surely get it right the second time.”

“You won’t,” Caden said sharply. It angled its face towards her. “None of us will believe your lies. Now wake us up, or we will kill you.”

“Little one,” the demon cooed. “I had not realised how sad your wedding day was. I won’t show it to you again. I can rebuild your mother for you. Wouldn’t you like that? She can tuck you into bed just like when you were small?” Caden's hand shook.

“Stop it,” she tried for commanding, but it fell short.

A cry went up from somewhere to the left of her and an electric blast shot through the air, deftly avoided by the demon. “Fuck you, you miserable demon!” Lorelei was already preparing a second spell, but with a wave of his hand, the demon seemed to summon a cage around the young mage, killing the spell before she could throw it at him. Caden watched her eyes widen in shock, then narrow again in fury. “Coward!” Lorelei yelled. “Fucking coward!”

“Let her go.” Caden snapped. Her edge was back and she wasn’t going to be distracted this time from their mission.

“Very well,” the demon gave sadly. “If it is to be a fight, then let us begin.”

With a yell, Caden lead the charge. One hand grabbed her skirts so that she could run, the other held out her knife. If she’d stopped to think about their circumstances or how badly she was dressed or armed for this, she might have stopped and started laughing, so she forced away any thought beside ending the Sloth demon. A barrage of different coloured energy shot across the space beside her; to her other side were the shapes of her party. The Sloth demon was calm as they bore down on him and moved slowly like he was underwater. Caden, her legs that much shorter, her outfit that much more cumbersome, fell behind. She saw him sweep his overly long arms almost gently from side to side, catching Sten and sending him flying, then Alistair with the next swing. Its other arm moved in a series of gestures that negated the onslaught of spells. It was Rose who drew first blood, clamping her jaws around the wrist of the arm that had thrown aside Sten and Alistair. The demon grunted in pain and bent at an angle, pulled down by the strong mabari, which allowed Leliana to launch herself through the air towards it, sinking her long dagger into the demon's shoulder, causing it to bellow. Those awful teeth bared at the Sister, pain leading to rage. Leliana did not flinch. Caden made a snap decision and skidded down on her hip as she advanced on the demon, sliding across the floor past her dog. As she passed the demon she thrust her knife upwards and through the robe, hoping against hope to make purchase with something solid, and so she did; the knife sticking in what she could only assume was demonic leg muscle. Her movement came to a jarring halt as she gripped the knife tightly, feeling a jolt of tension shoot through her arm. She scrambled to her feet and yanked out the knife, drawing it upwards with a twist as she rose. The Sloth demon howled again and Caden saw Leliana pull her dagger free only to slice it across the demon's chest. He staggered backwards, pulling Rosa with him, but then he shook her loose, sending her backwards a few feet. She landed on her side, but rounded back up again and charged forwards, teeth bared.

A ball of lightning struck the demon's chest; sparks burst and chased around the body of the demon as he shuddered in pain. They were succeeding, Caden thought grimly, as Alistair came up behind the demon and used his shield to bash the demon, with a sword thrust to follow. They were winning.

The demon clutched his arms around himself then shimmered out of sight. Caden whirled around, spotting the demon reappearing behind Eliza. She screamed the elf mages name, who didn’t have time to turn and was gripped by both of the demons arms. Eliza fought, but the demon dug his nails into her arms and she cried out, but Caden was already running, feeling rather than seeing her companions following suit. The demon tossed Eliza aside as the team came closer. Caden kept her gaze focused on the demon, hoping Eliza was alright. The demon held up his hands and made a gesture and then Caden felt the world go black again.

She stopped instinctively, her knife up, her other hand raised palm out in case she walked into anything or anyone. The last time she had stumbled into Alistair's nightmare; what would this time bring?

Breath on her neck had her spinning, the knife slicing through the dark, but there was no-one close enough to hit. A chuckle began close enough to her ear that someone had to be next to her, but again she found nothing solid when she spun. “Show yourself!” She yelped, before hands wrapped around her neck.

When Caden blinked the light back, she knew exactly who she would see.

Vaughan Kendall's face hovered close to hers as he tightened his grip. Caden heart almost stopped at the sight, at the sensation of his hands, at her inability to breathe. She was back in his estate, he was there and he was killing her all over again. A scream built in her chest, but there was no breath to let it out so it burned inside her. He laughed again, squeezing a little more.

No.

She wasn’t dying. He hadn’t killed her. He’d given it his best shot, but she had killed him instead. This wasn’t real and she would be damned if she would let his spectre haunt her like this when she had a job to do.

Vaughan's laughter cut off with a sickening gurgle as once more Cadens knife found purchase in his throat. His grip slackened and Caden gulped down air, but her determination never wavered; she wasn’t letting go this time. This time she dug the knife in deeper, her white knuckles flexing as she drove the blade further. Her other hand gripped his hair and yanked, pushing him backwards so that she could rise up and over him; he fell to the ground and she threw a leg over his chest, keeping him down. She yanked the blade free then with a wrenching cry she dove it into his breast again and again and again.

“Caden!”

The shout was loud and made her jump, turning from her position on top of Vaughan, except that with the movement the man vanished and she was back in the chamber with the Sloth demon.

The demon was gone and the rest of the party was looking at her. Rosa cocked her head to one side and whined. Alistair was breathing heavily and picking up his shield. Who had called her?

Caden slowly climbed to her feet. “Is it over?” She asked.

“It’s done,” Wynne replied.

It felt too good to be true. “Is this real?” Caden’s voice quivered. “Is this another trick?”

“We killed it,” Leliana answered. It didn’t really soothe her fears. Caden's hand trembled around her knife, threatening to drop it, but she gripped it with both hands. She would not let go again.

“It’s dead, this is real,” Lorelei snapped. Her words were clipped, her tone stern, but there was a weariness in her eyes that assuaged any worry Caden might have had that Lorelei was angry. Sten looked over at Caden, his gaze dropping to her fierce hold on her knife. She watched him raise his sword to hold it lengthways before him, one hand on the hilt, the other cradling the blade and a strange sense of understanding passed between them.

“What happens now?” Eliza asked shakily. Caden’s eyes snapped to her, thankful that she was seemingly alright after her throw. Alistair's gaze flickered to hers but didn’t land.

“I guess we wake—”

 

*

 

“—up.”

Caden’s voice rang out in the stillness before she opened her eyes.

Plate metal rose beneath her cheek and she frowned. Her neck felt stiff, her backside numb. Where was she now?

A hand brushed her back, but she didn’t startle. There was a strange feeling of peace over her in that moment and it took a second or two before she was able to identify it as the same golden glow that had lead her to Alistair.

_Alistair._

Caden sat up, knowing the imprint of her friend's armour was on her face. She’d been with him when the Sloth demon had sent her to sleep and into the Fade. Was this real? Were they back in the Tower?

Alistair's hazel eyes were blinking back to life, though he made no move to get up. She could hear the others standing around the room and Rosas warm body wedged herself between the Wardens as Caden remained still, looking down at him. “Are you alright?”

He blinked again, finally rolling his gaze over to her. “Are we out?” His voice croaked as if the words were fighting to get out of a dry throat.

“I think so,” Caden said with a shrug. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” Alistair said, pushing himself to a sitting position and lifting his arms slowly, his joints clicking with the motion. “Tired, which seems stupid. We just had a nap after all.”

Caden couldn’t quite summon a smile at the joke, but then she saw the shadow over Alistair's face and realised he hadn’t been teasing. There was a very real vision of regret on his expression. Caden felt her hand twitch to reach for him, but something about his demeanour stopped her. She had half expected that they might reunite under more emotional circumstances. Sitting on the cold stone floor of the room in the Tower, Caden was reminded of the letter he had left for her, how she had interpreted his worry as anger at her. Talking to Jowan and learning that Alistair had carried her into the castle after the blood magic had taken her down. Her stomach swooped. They mattered to each other. Not just because they were the last two Wardens in Ferelden; he had worried about her when she had fallen unconscious, she had come to find him in the Circle. They cared about each other.

So why was he avoiding her gaze now?

As he got to his feet with an awkward cough and didn’t offer her a hand up, Caden realised with the sensation of a lead weight inside her that it was her fault. She had kept him at arm's length all this time, even as they had become friends and gotten better with each others company in Redcliffe. It had been so long since she had been held by someone and suddenly that longing to have someone's arms around her hit her hard.

Caden quietly stood up, Rosa leaning against her as she did. Thank Andraste for Rosa. If it weren’t for her Caden would have been even more untouched. The walls she had raised around her since Vaughan and being forcibly conscripted didn’t feel as safe or warm as they once had. A glint of gold caught her eye and she glanced down at her ring, catching Alistair's matching look. Without thinking about it, Caden covered the band with her other hand and flushed as though she had done something wrong.

She had expected… she had hoped to find Alistair here and to be greeted with affection. If she was really honest with herself she wanted an embrace from her friend. The absence of that greeting stung.

Caden brushed herself off and turned around to the group. She was the last one up but refused to worry about that. Her gaze travelled over the people in the room, from the mages to Leliana and Sten, who was gazing down at his sword. Caden’s heart jolted and she realised her knife was lost once again, but then it had never truly been real in the Fade. Even so, her hands felt horribly empty again.

She really ought to say something, she knew that, but instead, she swallowed her sadness and her gaze alighted on the lump of flesh that had been the Sloth demon. It was melted together, steaming slightly. She scrunched up her face in distaste and turned away. The floor wasn’t empty; the bodies she remembered from before the initial attack were still there. Caden walked around them reverently, sorry that they were not quick enough to save everyone and then she saw him.

Caden knelt beside the cold body of Niall. He did not look peaceful in death; his skin was grey and mottled, his head turned away with a large purple bruise where his face touched the floor. His eyes and mouth were open, the latter flecked with blood and foam. Caden didn’t want to touch this corpse, not when she could so easily remember Niall standing and talking and living. Even if that life had been fading and fragile, that was how she wanted to remember him, but she had to endure this vision a little longer. She started to take a deep breathe, but the smell that met her caused her to gag, though she hid it behind her arm. She didn’t want to be disrespectful to the vessel of this brave mage. Keeping her arm over her face and breathing through her mouth, she extended her free hand to pat down Nialls chest. She didn’t think about what she was touching until she felt the rustle of parchment. Sliding his robes open over his chest she slipped her fingers inside against the cold cloth to find the roll of paper and pulled it out.

She stood, unfurling the parchment and turned away from Niall. The words on the top of the paper were fancy and bold, but the penmanship only served to confuse her. The words looked beautiful, but she could hardly identify the letters, let alone the lengthy words across the page. Caden stepped around the more decayed bodies towards Wynne. “Is this the Litany of Andalla?”

Wynne took the parchment and gave it a cursory glance. “This is it.” She peered over to where Niall lay. “He has given us a fighting chance.” She closed the scroll and handed it to Caden. “This will need to be read during the fight with Uldred.”

Caden's cheeks flamed. “I…” Her hands clenched and she made no move to take it.

“I’ll take it.” Leliana offered, coming to Caden's aid without questioning it. “That is, I would like the chance to read this if I may?”

“Yes, Leliana can do that.” Caden hurriedly agreed. “I am better at fighting than reading and I’d like the opportunity to stick the bastard who started all this.”

Wynne pursed her lips but held the rolled parchment out for Leliana to take. “You wore Holy robes in the Fade.”

Leliana nodded. “I was a cloistered Sister when Caden and Alistair found me and allowed me to join their quest.”

“We needed to evacuate Lothering and Leliana helped us a lot,” Caden added weakly. Wynne seemed to have thoughts on the matter but mercifully kept them to herself.

“Niall said Uldred was headed for the Harrowing Chamber,” Caden said to Wynne. “Where’s that?”

“Of course he was,” Lorelei snorted. “Where else would he hole himself up in?”

“That’s where you fight the demons, right?” Caden asked. Eliza came up beside her.

“Yes,” she said solemnly. The elf mage scratched her ear. “I didn’t think we’d have to go back there again so soon. Nor that we’d face demons again in the Fade.”

Wynne rested her hand on Eliza's shoulder in a gesture Caden took for motherly. “That is the fate of a mage, my dear. We have to face and defeat demons all our lives.”

“You helped kill a Sloth demon,” Lorelei pointed out, her arched brow at odds with her almost kindly voice. “You can take on anything Eliza.”

Eliza smiled and the two young mages shared a companionable look. Caden turned around to her party. “I guess we follow the mages then.”

 

*

 

The way higher up was mercifully empty. The only sound came from the heavy booted soles of Alistair and Sten, the merest hints of padding from the leather boots of Caden and Leliana and the slaps of the mages slippers on the stone floor. They did not speak. Caden couldn’t attest for the others, but she felt utterly drained by the encounter in the Fade. She wanted nothing more than to rest as they moved on, but knew they had to reach their destination. Another fight, another battle in which they might all die. Their numbers were bolstered by the mages, but Caden missed Morrigan. She thought of the witch now, back at Redcliffe, and hoped she was alright. Hoped everything was as they had left it, with everybody alive. This had to be worth something, all this. She glanced sideways at Alistair. He was deep inside himself, eyes glazed with some unseen thoughts. Her friend had left for the Circle and now there was just this man and Caden had no idea how to find him. The golden light between them pulsed, but he didn’t show any sign of noticing. Was it possible their connection was all in her mind?

Her thoughts were broken when he stumbled against the wall and without thinking, Caden was by his side, gripping his arm in both of her hands. He sank against the wall with a gasp despite her best efforts; he was heavily armoured and bigger than her. She had no hope of holding him.

“Alistair, what’s wrong?” She asked.

His eyes rolled and she saw beads of sweat on his forehead as he caught her worried gaze. “Just… came over funny. I’m fine,” he pulled his arm free and pushed himself back to a standing position.

Caden wasn’t convinced. “Wynne?” How quickly she drew comfort from the older woman she thought but ignored her inner musings to step aside so that Wynne could examine Alistair, who looked away, embarrassed.

“I’m fine—”

Wynne placed a hand on Alistair’s chest and tendrils of green light snaked through his armour to his skin. Alistair huffed but endued it. “You are very weak, dear,” she said after a moment. Her grey eyebrows dipped into a small frown. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were enfeebled.”

Caden knew that diagnosis. Had heard it often enough at the Alienage. “Alistair is fit and healthy.” She argued weakly. “He’s strong.”

“Caden—” Alistair started but was interrupted by Sten.

“I admit that I am not feeling quite myself,” the large man stated plainly. “I attempted to judge the passage of time inside the Fade, with some level of inaccuracy, but I believe we were trapped therein for longer than we know.”

Caden felt a chill douse her. “What do you mean?”

Leliana sighed and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. “Sten is right. I could lie here and sleep for days.” Her eyes cracked open and found Cadens. “Which is exactly what I believe we were doing.”

“No…” Caden shook her head. “That can’t be right. I found you guys and we fell asleep and then we killed the demon and… what? You think that took days? It can’t have.”

“Time moves differently in the Fade.” Caden turned to the haunted speaker. Eliza was blinking slowly back at her. “They could have a point.”

Leliana nodded. “The body of that young man, he had been dead for a while. By my assessment, I would estimate that his body had been deceased for around five days.”

Caden’s head was reeling. “But then… Connor…” Alistair met her expression with a pale shudder.

“Oh Maker.” He muttered.

“I feel fine.” Lorelei put forth. “I don’t feel like I’ve been asleep for days. Eliza? Wynne?” Both mages agreed with her assessment as Caden took mental stock in her own well-being. She couldn’t say she felt the fatigue that was clearly plaguing those who’d been trapped for longer.

“Wait,” Caden said. “Wait. Greagoir was calling for the Rite of Annulment. He’d have used it if we were gone that long.”

Wynne nodded slowly. “That’s true. We would know if it had been used. There is still time. We must hurry onwards, dispatch Uldred and hope that Irving is still alive.”

Caden gave a sharp nod. “Right. Alistair, Leliana, Sten, I want you three to head back down the tower. There are other mages waiting there, they’ll help you.”

“No,” Alistair growled, forcing himself to stand upright. “No way. I’m not leaving y—”

“You are,” Caden argued back hotly. “You can barely stand, let alone fight—”

“Yes I can, and I will,” he retorted loudly, his words echoing around them. “I’m not being sent away—”

“You left me back at Redcliffe,” Caden pointed out, worry being drowned out by irritation. “You left me in my sick bed because you knew the work needing doing, this is no different.”

“I’m not going,” Alistair said flatly. “I’m not.”

A growl clawed out of Caden’s throat and she gritted her teeth around it, trying to be understanding. “Alistair. I’m not asking you to go. I’m ordering you.”

His jaw worked, but other than that twitch he was absolutely still as he glared at her. Nobody said anything for a while. The two Wardens stared each other down and the silence dragged along.

Finally Caden, at a loss of anything else to say and half afraid that if she spoke again he would shout, turned and headed for the last staircase. She didn’t look back, but she couldn’t hear him start after her. Her chest was tight with tension and she felt horribly like she might cry of all things at the brief showdown. She didn’t feel like she’d won anything.

As they climbed the stairs she checked her armour over if only for something to do with her hands, which were shaking. She ran her palms over the hilts of her two swords, mournful yet again over the loss of her knife, but glad her larger blades were back. She tightened a buckle on her hip, ensuring it was secure, which of course it was. The mages followed her like silent shadows, for which she was grateful. Caden’s fingers brushed small glass vials, so cool and smooth in their fastenings. The drafts that Morrigan had made, she remembered. She was half tempted to turn around and press them into Alistair’s hand, to show that she was trying to care, not punish him. She remembered how she had felt that Alistair must have been cross with her to leave her behind, but understood the reasons for his decision. Did he understand hers? That, Andraste preserve her, she couldn’t bring him into a fight when he wasn’t at full capacity. That she couldn’t drag him to face whatever twisted magic lay above them because she would surely die if she had to spend her focus and energy worrying about him. Let him seethe below. At least they were both alive for that.

“The Harrowing chamber is up a short staircase,” Eliza said quietly as the next floor came in sight. She was holding the Litany now, given that Leliana had not joined them for the fight after all. “There’s an antechamber of sorts and then…”

Caden nodded. There didn’t seem to be anything to say.

The antechamber was smaller than she had expected. There was the short staircase to a door and then there was just an expanse of the same sort of magical structure the Sloth demon had trapped Lorelei inside in the Fade. Caden stepped over to it, mindful not to touch the wavering walls. The floor was littered with bodies, all wearing Templar armour. She closed her eyes and looked away. There was so much death contained in these circular walls.

The other mages wandered over to her and looked. Wynne made a noise of sympathy as Eliza let out a small sob.

A shriek of alarm made Caden jump. When she turned back to the cage she saw Lorelei dropping to her knees. “Oh Maker, no!” she cried. “You promised he was alive!”

Caden followed her frantic gaze to a figure on the floor, eyes closed and with a jolt, she realised that he was the man from Loreleis dream. Cullen. He wasn’t moving.

“Cullen! Cullen!” Lorelei touched a hand to the cage walls and winced when it spat magic at her. “Cullen, wake up!”

Caden looked away, too forlorn to take on Loreleis grief as well, but then the Templar coughed. Coughed and opened his eyes. “Cullen!” The relief was clear in Loreleis voice. “Cullen, it’s me. I’m going to get you out of this.”

The Templars eyes snapped to her face and his expression darkened as he pushed himself upright. “Begone, foul demon!” He hissed. Lorelei flinched back and let Eliza help her up, her sights locked onto Cullen. “I will not stand for your tricks any longer!”

“Cullen?” Loreleis tone was different. Questioning, but tender with it. “Cullen, it’s me. It’s Lorelei Amell. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember all too well,” he snarled. “The games you have played with me, the temptations you have dangled before me. You have broken their minds, but you shall not have mine.” He dropped to his knee and raised his hands in prayer. “The Maker guides me, so help me, and I will not submit to your wicked games. Begone!”

Lorelei was a tall, willowy woman, especially beside the elf mage, but as Caden watched she appeared to shrink down into herself. Her dark eyes were softened by unshed tears brimming on her lids. “Cullen,” she said quietly. “I’m not a demon. I’m me.”

Cullen opened his eyes and looked up, his face awash with confusion and pain. “What? Why are you still here? That has always worked before. Why are you doing this?” His own tears streaked down his face, leaving marks in the dried-on dirt and sweat on his cheeks. “Please… leave me alone. I can’t take much more of this. Just leave me alone.”

“Cullen…” Lorelei pressed a hand to the wall, letting the sparks fly around her palm until Eliza wrenched her wrist away.

“Please go away,” Cullen was openly sobbing now, head bowed, hands still tightly clasped together.

Caden walked slowly over to Lorelei and touched her arm. “Come on Lorelei. We’ll get him out of there when we’ve killed Uldred.”

Loreleis face was thunderous when she rounded on Caden, but within moments Caden could see her rage was not aimed at the Warden. “Yes,” she agreed darkly. “Let’s kill that motherfucker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's been a month. I hadn't even realised it was that long, but writing got so hard for a while there. I'm hopeful that I can keep up my regular postings again now things feel a bit better, thank you for bearing with me. 
> 
> The song for the chapter (This Is Why We Fight) is by the Decemberists. I chose that band and many of the elements to Nialls slightly changed storyline because of the voice actor who plays him in the game: Liam O'Brien. Any critters will know who I mean, but I gave a nod to his Critical Role character Vax with his mothers' name and job.


End file.
